Lego House
by hopelesslyhalfhearted
Summary: I'm gonna pick up the pieces, and build a lego house. Harry returns from America, after 8 years.
1. Chapter 1

_I've heard it said the trick__, i__s to set your watch when you hit the plane._  
><strong>Frank Turner<strong>

**Saturday**

He wondered, as the plane began to descend, if he'd have jet lag. He'd have to try and stay awake all day, then he could sleep all night – the sooner he got himself into the routine, the easier it would be. He cursed himself silently for having not slept a wink. He found himself wishing he had booked a flight that landed in the evening the night before, as opposed to early Saturday morning. He smiled at the sight of the cars, buzzing down the left-hand side of the motorway; the red brick houses; a massive Tesco; a corner shop; a cricket pitch; a group of kids playing football (not soccer).

It didn't take long to collect his bags, and in a matter of minutes he was being suffocated by his mother's hold.

"Hi," He managed to gasp, as she finally let go of him.

"You look too skinny," It was so ridiculously clichéd that he couldn't help laughing – it confirmed he was home; which, in turn, made him indescribably happy. "How was your flight?"

"Fine," He wheeled his 2 bags behind him; all his larger items had arrived in a cargo plane weeks before and were currently piled up in Mum's garage until he managed to find an apartment. "Plane food was awful,"

"I've got a leg of lamb for tonight," He felt like falling down to his knees and worshiping her; could any woman ever be more perfect? "Do they have meat in Boston?"

"We had it for Christmas dinner last time you visited?"

"Oh, I know, what I meant was, do they have it regularly? Or is it just for special occasions?"

"Lamb?"

"No, just meat in general,"

"Mum, I'm fairly sure I was living in the world's largest super power; not the third world," To be fair, he hadn't eaten meat a lot recently – it required too much skill and time to cook, and with only himself to cook for, he would have been left with a pile of leftovers if he ever attempted a joint, consequently most nights he opted for pasta – it was like going back to his student days. Lilly, predictably, hadn't been the most proficient of chefs either – when she was still on the scene, he spent most nights eating out at her stupid vegan restaurants. He really missed meat.

"Don't try to be clever," She scolded, hitting him on the arm. "It's just a lot of them are vegetarians, like Lilly, aren't they?" _I'm a vegan actually, Harry. There's a distinct difference... _He shuddered at the memory of her long speech about the average calorie intake of each option, and the effectiveness for weight loss; in hindsight, he should have realised there and then that she wasn't really for him – a woman who justified her lifestyle choice not by discussing the ethics, but the pros and cons as if she were advertising it for Weight Watchers. But her eyes were so pretty; he didn't really need to listen to her when he had those eyes to stare at all night. He cursed himself, not for the first time, for being stupid enough to carry on, in the hope there would be some sort of substance behind the beautiful mask of porcelain skin and oceanic eyes and husky whispered tones.

"Whatever you say," He hoisted his heavy bags into the boot, and soon they were on their way home, his Mum at the wheel, and therefore designated DJ for the journey – it was a rule Dad had made up when Harry was little, to stop him requesting ABBA constantly; 'the driver of the car is the only one allowed to touch the radio', it had stuck, even after his death, and continued to be abided by, even when Harry's Mum was the passenger (those journeys were, naturally, filled with ABBA classics, much to her dismay).

"So, how was your journey?" She asked as she pulled the car out and he slunk down into his seat.

"Fine, apart from the little delay,"

"Little delay?" She scoffed. "I was waiting so long I had to go to Starbucks. Do you know how much a coffee costs there?" Harry sighed and looked out the window – the 45 minute drive to his childhood home was going to be a long one.

"Mum, I told you how to check my flight number online to see if there were delays,"

"£3! The cheek of it. It was too bloody milky, as well." He had noticed, that she had begun to swear around him a lot more frequently and had stopped apologising for it, forgetting any previous notions of being a 'good role model' – he wasn't sure if this was in correlation with her age increasing, or his. He wondered if anyone else hadn't heard their mother curse casually until they were over 40.

He leant his head against the window; not to sleep, of course – he had to adjust his body clock as soon as possible, which meant no mid-morning naps – he was just attempting shut himself off from his surroundings, hoping to filter out Radio 4's Women's Hour, along with any of his mother's questions.

"When are you seeing Nikki then?" It was a question that had been playing on his mind too – they'd had a brief conversation over the phone a week prior, but that was just telling her his flight details. And before that, for years, there had been nothing except a Christmas card. Both leading busy lives, 3000 miles from each other – of course they didn't have the time to sustain their friendship, no matter what they had told each other when he first moved out there.

"Not sure,"

"She's still very pretty, you know; saw her the other day, not as pretty as she was the last time you saw her of course, but still very pretty." He had to admit that he had trouble imagining her ever being prettier than she was the last time he saw her; a wide smile spread across her lips, beneath a thin white veil, a long trail of blank silk running behind her. "Have you spoken to her recently?"

He closed his eyes and pretended not to hear her; maybe sleeping wasn't such a bad idea.

**I know, I know, I have FAR too many unfinished things. But this is the only this is the only thing I've been wanting to write – sorry! Please, please review, so I know whether to continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm coming home, just to let you know, that I missed you._  
><strong>Joshua Radin<strong>

**Monday**

"I'm so sorry I'm late," She puffed, out of breath, throwing her bag down onto her desk and quickly turning her laptop on, conscious that she had a report to send off that was already late. Leo looked on sympathetically. "I had to deal with..."

"Don't worry," Leo cut in. "Janet explained."

"Your wife is a life saver." Nikki collapsed into her chair and smelt her hair, wondering if the smell of Charlie's sick still lingered, even after the quick shower she had managed to fit in between arranging someone to look after him, phoning the school and putting his clothes in the machine. "Was she really not busy today?" Janet had pretended to be free before, to help out Nikki, even if it meant rearranging a whole day; Nikki had tried desperately to forget the embarrassment and guilt she felt when she found out Janet and Leo had cancelled their anniversary date to look after Charlie, and vowed she'd never let them do something like that ever again.

"She wasn't," Leo looked away and begun leafing through a new case file.

"You're such a bad liar," She sighed. Just once, couldn't everything just be easy for her? Couldn't her day go smoothly; hick-up free; on schedule? Leo looked at her, trying to look hurt at her accusation. He failed.

"She had a lunch date," He revealed, reluctantly. "But it wasn't anything special," He added hastily, knowing she was going to feel guilty and become even more stressed out. "She's just rearranged it for next week – honest, it's ok," Before she could argue back, he quickly moved onto a new subject. "A certain someone's been waiting around wanting to know which desk you would like to occupy,"

"You're stuff's spread over both of them, so I wasn't sure. I thought you might have become slightly tidier in 8 years," She had missed his voice; which was silly, she thought, as she had spoken to him a week or two ago, but there was something different about hearing it face to face, without the slight crackling down a telephone line from thousands of miles away.

She had spent a long time planning out her greeting to him; was a handshake too formal for someone she used to share her every thought with? A hug too friendly for someone she hadn't spoken to properly for at least 4 years, and hadn't seen for even longer? She had hoped to have greeted him in a situation where she had her hands full, therefore not having to pick between the two options, and hopefully letting the moment pass with a simple 'it's so good to see you'.

When she heard his voice, all planning went out the window.

She was unsure of how long she hugged him for, and until she let go, she hadn't realised quite how tightly she had been squeezing him. She smiled apologetically and, whilst he regained his breath, took the time to inspect him properly.

His jawbones were still defined – impressive, considering he was now closer to 50 than 40 – and his cheeks, covered in a thin layer of greyish bristles, looked gaunter and more drawn since the last time they had seen each other. He looked thinner, that was for sure, but not in a healthy way. He had always been slim, but now it almost seemed he had some wasting disease.

"I like your hair accessory," He observed. Pure panic washed over her, as she stepped away, hoping to make a quick escape to the showers; she thought she'd managed to get all the sick out. He stopped her by stretching out his arm and carefully picking something out of her still slightly damp, messy, blonde locks. A wayward autumn leaf. "Which desk is mine, then?"

It was a question she had been trying to answer ever since Leo suggested Harry as Graham's replacement. She'd spread all her stuff out onto both desks, so really she could say either of them were hers. She had wondered about just giving Harry his old desk back, but then, she wasn't really sure whether it had been his or hers, with how often she had used it. Whichever way it was, that desk had most definitely become hers in the past 8 years, which, logically, meant Harry should just take the other desk. But that was Graham's desk, and she didn't want Harry to be his replacement in every way – in fact, she wanted to have as few comparisons as possible. And she wondered if it would feel odd having someone else sat in Graham's desk – they'd so often played footsy under it and shared longing gazes over it, that it almost seemed wrong to allow anyone else to occupy it. So, she concluded, she should just give Harry hers and use Graham's. But then, she wasn't sure if she felt comfortable sitting in it either.

She realised she could have kept going all day, which she had done frequently over the 2 weeks since he had phoned to confirm his flight times with her. _Pathetic_, she whispered to herself. _Get a grip_.

"You can have your old one back,"

"Which means I'll be spending most of my time sat at the other one," He smiled. "Unless you've been to desk stealing rehab since I was here?"

"Betty Ford really changed me,"

He laughed, and then disappeared back into the locker room. She silently began to collect all her things up and arranged them sort-of-neatly on her desk, before sitting down and beginning work on one of the 5 reports she had stacked up in her tray. He came back 5 minutes later, a satchel slung over his shoulder and a laptop case under one arm. He withdrew some pens from the bag, and took out his laptop, settling it down on the desktop, before leaning back into the chair and spinning around, taking in his surroundings. His ride came to an abrupt end, cursing as he hit his knee against the desk.

"I missed you," She giggled.

**Thank you to Ann119, tigpop, Izzy, Emma 1996 and dinabar for reviewing, and to anyone who put this on story alert. Please review! Remember, you don't need an account to review! **


	3. Chapter 3

_We'll get a table near the street in our old familiar place__, y__ou and I - face to face.  
><em>**Billy Joel**

**Monday**

Harry had thought it would have been more awkward than it was, but they seemed to fall back into their normal routine fairly quickly. Of course, they were nowhere near where they had been before he left for America; he had spent long sleepless nights wondering if they ever would return to a friendship like that, but he had recently come to the conclusion that it was best not to dwell on that for too long – he had been back less than a day, and she was already teasing him, which was more than he had expected. Focus on the positive Harry, he told himself.

"Have you found any decent apartments yet?" Nikki asked as they wandered down the street.

"Not really,"

"How's your Mum?"

"She's fine," Harry remembered something. "I didn't realise you'd seen her recently,"

"I haven't?" He thought back to his Mother's brief comment on the car journey from the airport – he could have sworn she'd said she'd seen Nikki the other day.

"Haven't you?" He was puzzled.

"I haven't seen your Mum in...oh god, years I think. Since the wedding. Why, should I have?"

"No, it was just a comment she made,"

"What type of comment?"

"I tried calling yesterday, see if you wanted to get lunch or something, but I couldn't get through," He probed, quickly changing the subject, as they took a table at their usual lunch spot. It had been repainted, he noted, since the last time he had been; the chocolate colour he remembered from before had been replaced by a light grey. Just like his hair, he scoffed.

"Day off – mobile is off from the moment I wake up." He eyed her questioningly, wondering if he would even find it possible to function for a day without his own mobile.

"And what if someone needs to get hold of you?"

"I've never answered calls from the office on free days, so that's one to tick off," She paused to tell the waitress her order, and then continued. "Janet and Leo have the home phone, Graham has the home phone, school have the home phone."

"And if you're out of the house?"

"Oh, Harry," She smiled. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

"What?"

"You're so sweet!" Her tone was very much mockingly patronising. "You actually thought I got to do things other than tidy up the house and do laundry on my day off,"

"Oh, I forgot you were into that whole domestic housewife thing," She giggled. He liked her giggle. He had missed her giggle. "How's that going for you?"

"Well, you know your life is at its peak when you can count the only people who ever call you on one hand and still have a finger spare," She hesitated. "3 spare if you don't count work and educational establishments as people,"

"If you give me your house phone, I might actually get through to you sometime, and you'll have a whole hand full,"

"I don't know, you're not the type of guy I usually give my number to,"

"What if I thought up a cheesy pick-up line?"

"Possibly," She watched as he concentrated, as if leafing through a mental book.

"The only thing your eyes haven't told me is your number," She spluttered and struggled to keep her drink in her mouth.

"Has that _ever _worked?"

"Only in America, baby," He winked and grinned, like a game show host. She wondered briefly if he'd completely adopted American tradition and had his teeth whitened – they seemed shinier. But, then, she reasoned, if he had become vain enough for that, surely he would have attempted to dye his hair. "On a more serious note, how is your young whipper-snapper?"

Harry hadn't been sure what to call Charlie in relation to Nikki. Saying that she had a son, or a kid, or a child, or a person-completely-dependent-on-you, seemed too alien, even though it had been the situation for almost 5 years. He wasn't quite sure why he'd said whipper-snapper; it had just kind of splurged out of his mouth, without a conscience decision to do so. He felt stupid. He'd just refer to him as Charlie in future.

"Fine, really, one day he'll grow out of being angry at me for not being as good at Lego or Scalextric as daddy,"

"Why don't you just leave the Lego and Scalextric to dad time?"

"Because, unfortunately, there ain't all that much of that at the moment," She took a large gulp of her water, wishing it was wine.

"He's busy with his new job?" As she took in the confused expression on his face, she realised she'd never actually told him why his old job was available again. It saddened her, really, to think that Harry didn't know anything about the most life changing thing that had happened to her in the time since Charlie was born. Even the delivery boy for her favourite pizza place knew – and Harry, the one who used to be able to know how she was feeling before she herself did, was completely in the dark.

"No, well yes, he is busy, but...we're...taking a break," He tried not to look too surprised.

"A break?"

"Trial separation, something like that anyway," She wondered why she was so desperate to make it seem like she was nonchalant about the whole thing; of course she cared, it was her husband, the love of her life. And of course he knew she cared, it would take a fool to think otherwise.

"I'm..." Harry couldn't quite decide whether it was acceptable for him to ask about the details. He'd wait, he concluded, at least for a few more days – just to give them time to settle back into their friendship. "That must suck."

"It's ok,"

"So Graham's not living with you?"

"No,"

"And that's why I got this job?"

"On the ball today, Sherlock," She regretted the bitter tone that had drifted into her voice – how was he supposed to know, she hadn't explained it to him. He didn't deserve to have his head bitten off. She cursed herself inwardly – she'd been happy all morning, laughing a joking with Harry, teasing him about the various Americanisms he'd picked up – but now, as soon as Graham was mentioned, she had been warped into a bitter, sarcastic version of herself.

"So," Harry had sensed the change in mood, and it wasn't that he wasn't willing to comfort Nikki or to listen to her confide in him, but he'd been enjoying their chatter and had a feeling maybe she had too. "What type of things is he into?"

"Younger women, 25 year-old scotch, CSI..." Harry's laughter cut her list short.

"Niks, you can't give him the good stuff until he's a least 5. Keep him on the 10 year malts." He smiled and she beamed back, nervously, embarrassed at her misunderstanding of the question.

"Oh, Charlie's more of a peach cordial man," She smiled, glad that Harry had left the burning subject of Graham. "And Thomas the Tank,"

"They still have Thomas?"

"Of course; he's memorized all the numbers and names and colours," Harry began the process of paying the bill, whilst remain focussed on Nikki. "It's his little party trick – tell him any number, or colour and he can tell you the train's name,"

"Ah, but not all the characters are trains; I distinctly recall there being at least 2 passenger cars,"

"I had no idea you were such a Thomas connoisseur,"

"I bet you know their names,"

"I don't,"

"My friend knows all the Disney princesses and their respective partners because of his daughter," Nikki looked at him in stubborn refusal – there was no way she was going to let him know; the teasing would never stop. He stood up from the table and led her out, all the while in silence. As they walked down the street, he stayed a couple of strides in front.

"Harry, are you really giving me the silent treatment?" No reply. "Harry?" No reply. "God, you're such a child," Silence.

They rounded the corner to the Lyell Centre, and as he punched the code into the door, she drew a deep breath.

"Annie and Clarabel," She conceded.

**Thank you to all the lovely people who have reviewed, and added this to story alert. LOVE YOU.**


	4. Chapter 4

_She keeps on adding all my friends; they just think she's a joke.  
><em>**Back of the Class**_  
><em> 

**Monday**

"How was your first day?"

"Why are you so dressed up?"

"I've got a date," She said quickly. "How was your first day?"

"You've got a date?"

"How was your first day?"

"Who have you got a date with?"

"Answer my question,"

"Answer mine,"

"I asked first," He sighed, and gave in. He would have to find an apartment soon; living with his mother was killing him.

"It was great, fantastic, fab, thanks," He said quickly, rummaging around for something to eat. "So, who've you got a date with?"

"Someone from the club," She directed him towards the fridge, where she'd left some soup for him to heat up. "Did you catch up with Nikki?"

"A little bit. Which club? Ministry of Sound?"

"Nice to see your British humour is still intact. The bowling club. Just a little bit?"

"Well, we do actually have to work, amazingly enough. We went for lunch," He attempted to eat the soup cold, but even he, who could quite happily eat cold leftover Chinese or Indian, decided he'd have to make the effort to heat it up. "Since when have you gone to a bowling club?"

"A year ago when they got a woman's team together. What did you talk about?"

"This and that," He came to the conclusion that it would take a lot of effort to get any further details out of his mother about her date, and to be honest, he didn't care all that much. "By the way, she said she hadn't seen you recently?"

"She hasn't," This left him even more confused.

"But your exact words in the car were 'she's still very pretty, saw her the other day'. Therefore, you've seen her recently,"

"Oh, darling, not face to face," She did a last check of her make-up in the mirror. "On The Facebook,"

"The what?"

"The Facebook," She then proceeded to double check she had everything she needed in her purse – mobile phone, money, Rennie Chews, house keys, pepper spray. "It's a website – you make a profile, and you can add friends and then you can write on each other's walls. I thought it was going to look a bit like graffiti when Sandra explained it to me, but it's actually very neat and tidy."

"Mum, I know what Facebook is," He sighed. "I just wasn't aware you had it,"

"Sandra helped me set it up last year,"

"Why were you looking at Nikki's Facebook?"

"I added her as a friend,"

"Why?"

"Just to see what she was up to; it's not a crime, is it?"

"But you've met her three times at most," He couldn't understand the appeal of Facebook, no matter how many times people tried to persuade him to join. They would tell him that it was the easiest way to keep in touch with everybody and everything, but the way he saw it, if he wanted to interact with his friends, he would make the effort to do so face-to-face or via email or by phoning them – and, in his mind, 'liking' a piece of text that somebody had posted online, hardly constituted as keeping in touch.

"I went to her wedding," She said it in a manner that insinuated that, because of this fact, they were firm friends.

"6 years ago! And only because I took you as my date!"

"She's a lovely girl. And if you didn't want to stay in contact with her, I thought I better do."

"I did want to stay in contact Mum – we _did _stay in contact," She tutted at him and then reiterated her view that sending a Christmas card for the past 5 years did not count as keeping in contact. "How often do you look at her profile?"

"A couple of times a day,"

"Are you mad?"

"No,"

"Do you have nothing better to do with your time than stalk my best friend over the internet?"

"Ex-best friend," Ouch. At times, she could be the most harmless old woman you could meet, although she wouldn't take kindly to this granny-like description; but then, without any warning, she could make the most venomous comments. Harry had always thought he could see a twinkle of evil lurking behind her soft brown eyes. "And no, I don't, I'm retired. I'm going to be late for Trevor, so I better get going,"

"Have a lovely night,"

"Don't burn the house down," She was out the door before he could protest about her patronising warning. He looked down to see that the soup had begun to bubble over the pan.

As he ate, he wondered if she left her Facebook logged on the computer. It wouldn't hurt if he were to have a little peak, surely.

She did.

It was saved as her homepage, so, he concluded, it couldn't really be classed as snooping. He'd innocently turned the computer on, and there it was. He was at a loss as to how to find Nikki's page, until he noticed the search box at the top. He tried Nikki Alexander, and nothing came up. There was a Nikki Dawes though. For a brief second, he wondered who it could be, and then realised that she no longer went by her maiden name. Stupid. He'd have to get used to that; although, really, he should have already become used to it after 6 years of it being the case. He tried saying it to himself; but no matter what tone he used, it still sounded wrong. He wondered if she'd be offended if he just carried on calling her Alexander.

He clicked on the link, and was greeted by a picture of her; hair wet and messy, no make-up on, by the side of a pool, her arms wrapping a towel around a blonde haired little boy, who was perched between her legs.

And all he could think was that his mother had been right, for once.

She did look very pretty.


	5. Chapter 5

_He's got a brand new car, looks like a Jaguar, it's got leather seats.  
><em>**Feeder**

**Friday**

"Are you done with your reports?" Harry looked up from his desk.

"Think so," He answered, packing away his laptop, relieved that it was Friday and he'd survived his first week back at the Lyell Centre.

"Could you do me the biggest favour?"

"Nikki...Leo can see us," He grinned, looking towards his boss' office. "Maybe you could reign in your desire until a little la..."

"Gross," She cut him short, and pointed at her reports. "I have at least another hour to do," She rubbed her eyes, pulling down on her cheeks, attempting to wake herself up. "Could you pick Charlie up from after school club? And then bring him back here? I'll phone ahead, tell them you'll be getting him, so they don't think you're some crazy paedophile. Usually I'd get Julie to, but her daughter has some dancing thing, so she can't. I'll text a picture of you to her, she's another parent, and she'll make sure you get the right kid." He'd heard about Julie briefly, through their various chit-chats over lunch. He wished he'd had a proper chance to catch up, but she'd always been running off to do the school run as soon as the day was over. "I'd ask Leo, but he's going out with Janet and I don't want to make them late. It just means I can get all this done earlier," She pointed towards the half finished reports that were piled on her desk. "He might be scared though, he won't know who you are, maybe I should just..."

"Nikki," Harry placed his bag back down by his desk. "What's the school called?"

"George Eliot Infants,"

"I'll see you in a bit,"

It didn't take him long to find the school – god, was he thankful for the invention of Sat-Nav. It took a while to find a parking space; it seemed all parents picked up from After-School club at the same time. He became engulfed with a fear that he didn't know what Charlie looked like, even though Nikki had been showing him pictures of the boy all week. He eventually got out of the car after spending 5 minutes panicking internally.

"Can I help you?" A lady asked him at the gate.

"I'm here to pick up Charlie," What if the woman thought he was a paedo? Was there an expression he could pull to make himself seem like an upstanding, trustworthy man? "Charlie Alexander," No, stupid Harry. "Not Alexander, sorry," That's the second time you've made that mistake, he reprimanded himself."Charlie Dawes," He looked at the woman hopelessly – was he really sweating over this? _Pull yourself together, Harry._ "Nikki asked me to pick him up,"

"Oh, right, yes, I forgot, she phoned ahead, sorry," Harry got the feeling that she was checking him out, the way her eyes ran down and then back up his body. No, he told himself, don't be stupid; you're 46 years old; women don't 'check you out'; she was more likely to be checking you didn't have any weapons on you. "Come inside,"

The reception area was crowded, full of parents waiting for their children to get their bags. It seemed there was an overwhelming majority of women; in fact, Harry had trouble picking out any men at all. It was an odd environment; they all seemed to be staring at him as if he were a fish out of water. He lowered his gaze to his feet, attempting to avoid eye contact with anyone.

Harry caught sight of the blonde hair, exactly the same shade as his mother's; and a blue backpack, emblazoned with a large Thomas the Tank engine. His hand was gripped tightly to a woman's, whom had her other hand occupied by a little girl, who looked a similar age to the boy.

"Hello," He looked down towards the big brown eyes and then upwards at the woman who had greeted him. "I'm Julie, Nikki's friend,"

"Oh, hi," Harry shook her outstretched hand. "Harry,"

"I've heard a lot about you,"

"Likewise,"

"Nikki just wanted to make sure you found Charlie ok,"

"Oh, right, yes," He looked down at Charlie. "Hi, Charlie," He crouched down; imitating the other parents, hoping it would make him seem less frightening to the little boy who had never seen him before.

"You've got a furry face, like a teddy bear," Maybe he shouldn't have worried about being scary, after all. He subconsciously felt the stubble on his chin; he'd remember to shave once he got back home.

"I guess I do,"

"Are you Harry?"

"I am,"

"Mummy showed me pictures." Harry couldn't resist smiling at the thought of Nikki sitting down with a photo album, explaining some of their less scary or rude escapades to her son. He wondered what she'd said about him. "You work with her,"

"I do,"

"With Grandad?" Harry wasn't sure who Granddad was – he took an educated guess in thinking there was no way it could be Victor, although in the time he'd been in America, so much had happened, that he had begun to think anything was possible. Still, he highly doubted Nikki would ever be able to forgive her father. That left Leo as the only contender.

"Yes. You're a lot bigger than all the pictures I've seen,"

"That's because I'm nearly 5 now!"

"Nearly 5? Wow, you'll be as old as me soon,"

"No, because Mummy says you're older than her, and Mummy's very old," Ouch. Harry looked up to see Julie laughing.

"I better go, Louise has dancing," She pointed towards the little girl. "Maybe I'll get the chance to meet you properly soon?"

"Hopefully,"

"Bye,"

"See you," He looked down to Charlie. "Come on, cheeky, Nikki will be waiting for us," Harry went back to standing, and turned towards the door.

"Who's Nikki?" Harry turned to see that he wasn't being followed. Charlie stood still as a statue, leaving Harry unsure what he was meant to do.

"I meant Mum," He made his way out for a second time, and Charlie didn't follow. "Come on, kid," He still didn't move. "I mean...Mummy?" The little boy nodded, but still didn't budge. "Charlie, what's wrong?" The little boy stretched a hand out, Harry cautiously took it, and the littler of the two dragged them towards the door.

As they neared the car, Harry wondered whether he should have taken some sort of booster seat from Nikki.

"In you hop," He let go off the tiny fingers, and opened the door for him.

"Mummy doesn't let me sit in the front," He clearly hadn't inherited his mother's dangerous streak just yet. Harry looked at the boy and then back at the car.

"I don't have any back seats," He had been using his Dad's old Jaguar E-Type; it had been sitting in the garage for years, and he'd never had the guts to take it out, for fear of damaging it. But there was nothing else for him to drive, so he gave in; he was waiting to get something more suitable, and just like an apartment, he was having trouble finding it. He knew he could quite easily get a decent car if he bothered looking, but after just a few days, he couldn't bear to tear himself away from the vintage leather seats and ruby red exterior, no matter how ridiculous the fuel efficiency was.

"Why?"

"How about you just sit in the front? I'm sure Ni...Mummy will understand,"

"Does it have no roof?"

"It can do," Harry felt the chill of the Autumn wind against him. "But it's really cold, so we'll keep the roof on,"

"Ok," Harry was expecting him to jump straight in the car – instead, he slowly pulled his rucksack off and handed it to Harry, then he did the same with his coat and finally climbed in. Harry handed back his things and shut the door.

"Ready?" He asked as he put the key in the ignition.

"Does it go faster because it's red?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Take you out to dinner, I don't expect nothing at all._  
><strong>Drake<strong>

**Friday**

"He's certainly feeling better," Harry said as he walked up to Nikki's desk, with Charlie in close pursuit, running around, pretending to be an aeroplane.

"Hmmm," She agreed, casting at glance at her son before returning to the paperwork, not at all surprised at his quick recovery from the virus he'd picked up earlier in the week. "He's got the immune system of a god,"

"Clearly," Harry sat down at his desk opposite her.

"I thought you'd finished?"

"I was, but on the way over here Charlie was telling me about how horrible his dinner is," Charlie looked up at the mention of his name, and laughed as Harry winked at him.

"Oi!" Nikki looked down at the little boy accusingly; he kept her gaze for a while, smiling mischievously, before returning to his game.

"He said he was bored of turkey dinosaurs," Nikki rolled her eyes. "Quite honestly I didn't think it was possible for a kid to get bored of processed crap, so I guess you must really go overboard with the Bernard Matthews – maybe that's how we should tackle childhood obesity, put them off junk at a young age from overfeeding." He grinned.

"I do not just feed you turkey dinosaurs!" Charlie didn't bother looking at her this time. "Charlie!" He stopped and turned around. "You cannot tell people all you eat is turkey dinosaurs! We had stew last night! And we have macaroni cheese, and shepherd's pie, and spaghetti!" The Nikki Harry knew would have had difficulty with beans on toast.

"I have lots of turkey dinosaurs," She sighed as he returned to running around.

"He does not just eat turkey dinosaurs," She turned to Harry, a stern look on her face. "I don't have much time to cook as I used to, so I use freezer food more often. But Charlie," She glared at him. "Is prone to exaggeration."

"Anyway," His eyes twinkled with delight; he loved teasing her and seeing the red flush it brought to her cheeks. "In light of this new development, I thought, as it is Friday night, I could take you out for a meal,"

"Harry..."

"Charlie suggested a very good restaurant, and from hearing his views on how to stop bullying, I have every faith in his judgement." Nikki wondered why on earth Charlie had been discussing anti-bullying, she wondered how he even knew what bullying was – she could have sworn it wasn't normal vocabulary for a 4 year old - but as she had learnt since he had begun to form coherent sentences, there was no point dwelling on it, as Charlie's mind was a complete conundrum to her.

"How is it you've managed to become best friends with my son in less than an hour?"

"We're both talkative chaps," The smile which had appeared on his face at some point between Maida Vale and Hammersmith Road, when Charlie began singing along to Frankie Goes to Hollywood, hadn't left it since. "He suggested Pappa Piccolinos?"

"Harry, you don't have to take us out for a meal,"

"I don't have to, but I want to,"

"I really don't want to,"

"Ok, instead of thinking of it as an avoidance of turkey dinosaurs think of it as..." He wondered what would best persuade her. "A celebration of my return,"

"That's nothing to celebrate," She quipped.

"Funny."

"I want carbs," Nikki smiled wearily at the excited grin on Charlie's face, and then back towards Harry, who was trying his best to display some sort of puppy dog likeness.

"Are you depriving your son of carbohydrates?" Harry smiled. "Look how desperate he looks; bet you've got him on the Atkins,"

"He means spaghetti carbonara," Charlie nodded in agreement. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"I will come eat Italian with you,"

"Let's go," He jumped up quickly from his seat, desperate to set off before she changed her mind, high fiving Charlie as he did.

"Hold your horses," Nikki began collecting up all her stuff. "I'm going home first,"

"Why?"

"I need a shower,"

"It's not a date, Niks, you don't need to get dressed up," Harry said matter-of-factly; Nikki gave up, sighed and followed them out of the door.

"Harry," Harry leant down slightly, so that he could hear Charlie's whisper. "We don't have any horses,"


	7. Chapter 7

_I'll meet you anytime you want, in our Italian restaurant.  
><em>**Billy Joel**

Friday

"Chazza!" Usually, Harry would have said Chazza was quite possibly the most horrible nickname in history, but there was something about the soft Italian accent of the waiter that added an endearing quality to it. Harry had never seen anyone greeted into a restaurant the way Charlie was; a waiter swung him round in the air, another ruffled his hair once he was back on the ground and within a few minutes of the three walking through the door, a third had brought him a wine glass full of what looked like Chardonnay.

"Table for _three_?" Nikki rolled her eyes at Giorgio's suggestive eyebrow raise and wink, hoping Harry had been too distracted by the attention Charlie was receiving to notice it.

"Table for three," She confirmed.

"It'll be about 15 minutes, I'll get you drinks?"

"Just a lime soda for me, Harry?"

"Errm," Harry wondered how often Nikki dined here – within the space of 5 minutes, more than 5 waiters had wondered past and greeted 'Chazza'. "A Carlsberg?"

"I'll bring them over," As the waiter turned away, and they sat down on the barstools in the waiting area, Harry noticed that Charlie had disappeared.

"Nikki, your son seems to have vanished," She didn't seem at all fazed by the news.

"He'll have gone to look at the puddings; they've got a display fridge full of them,"

"Riiight."

"He likes drooling over them and talking to the lady who plates them up,"

"I'm beginning to sense that food is the way to his heart?"

"Is it not the same for all men?"

"Yes, it probably is," He grinned. "By the way, is Charlie drinking wine?"

"Oh, god no," She smiled, nothing but exhaustion showing on her face. "It's apple juice; he just likes to pretend he's like Mummy,"

"Drinks," The waiter handed them both a glass. "There's a table free now, Nikki, if you want to sit?"

"Of course," They stood up from where they had been briefly perched. "I'll just go fetch him," Nikki walked away.

"I'll take you to the table then," The waiter smiled at Harry and led him into the main part of the restaurant, leaving him at a table for three by the window.

"I don't want to go," Harry heard Charlie before he saw him.

"You have to sit at the table," Harry turned round in his chair, to see that the desert fridge was a few metres away behind a pillar.

"I don't want to,"

"Uncle G has got us a table," Harry was once again left wondering how often they ate at the restaurant, to be calling a waiter Uncle.

"I don't want to!"

"Charlie, if you don't come right now, we'll go home," Harry smiled, as the little boy still didn't budge. "Without Harry." That moved him.

"Harry, they have profs!" Charlie grinned excitedly as he sat down next to his new friend, leaving Harry to look towards Nikki for a translation.

"Profiteroles," Charlie had a habit of shortening any difficult words he couldn't pronounce to the first few letters, meaning a lot of the time he spoke in a language that only she could understand fully – even Graham, his father, had trouble. "Charlie, you have to try to say the whole thing,"

"What are you eating?" He looked up wide eyed at Harry, ignoring his mother completely.

"I'm not sure yet," He looked over the menu. "Probably a pizza,"

"I'm having carbs,"

"Carbonara," Nikki rolled her eyes. "Say it after me – carbonara,"

"I don't want to,"

"You go to big school now, you have to know how to say big words," Because of his lack of experience with children, Harry wasn't sure if 4 year olds were actually expected to be able say words longer than 2 syllables, or if it was Nikki trying to push her son, who was quite clearly already bright judging from the conversation about the Second World War they'd had in the car. Charlie crossed his arms over his chest, immediately shifting moods from giddy to grumpy. "Car-bon-ara," Nikki repeated it slower, emphasising each separate syllable.

"Carnara,"

"Car,"

"Car," Charlie repeated.

"Bon,"

"Bon,"

"Ara,"

"Ara,"

"Carbonara,"

"Carbara," It was ridiculously cute, Harry thought, seeing her parenting – it was an idea that would have been quite laughable to him a decade previously, just like her being able to cook, and it all still seemed a bit foreign, but it was cute none the less. Weird, surreal and alien – but cute.

"Close enough," She was too tired to push it anymore. "What did you do today?"

"Ellie fell in the sand pit! And she got sand in her eyes!"

"You sound a little too happy about that," Harry observed.

"She's a _girl._"

"I'm a girl, would you like if I got sand in my eyes?" Nikki questioned. There was a silence, as Charlie stared into space for a moment, pensive.

"You're not a girl," Harry couldn't help laughing at him.

"I think you'll find I am,"

"Are not,"

"Do you two always argue this much?" Harry asked.

"She's a moody pants," Nikki laughed, for the first time that evening, and Harry smiled, proud that he'd achieved what he set out to do.

"Are you ready to order?"

"I think so,"

Once the food arrived, Nikki spent a long time trying to get Charlie to talk to Harry in between mouthfuls, instead of when he had various strands of spaghetti handing out of his mouth, which Harry kindly pointed out, made him look like that weird octopus man from Pirates of the Caribbean. She smiled at the animated conversation between man and boy, occasionally inputting, but most of the time sitting on the sidelines.

"Who would win out of a polar bear and a tiger?"

"I guess..." He paused and Nikki couldn't help laughing at the amount of thought Harry was putting into his answer. "Are they fighting in the jungle or on ice?"

"Jungle,"

"I'd have to say tiger,"

"Why?"

"It just would,"

"Why?"

"Tigers can climb up trees,"

"Maybe polar bears can climb trees, but there are no trees on ice, so they never got the oppo,"

"Opportunity," Nikki corrected.

"That's a very good point," Harry conceded. "You've got me there."

"Do you want to get the bill?" Nikki said quickly, saving Harry from yet another question.

"Yeah,"

Once they were out into the car park, Charlie ran towards Harry's Jaguar. Nikki sighed – yet another battle would have to be fought.

"Charlie, you can't go in Harry's car," She looked towards her own boring Astra and then back to the convertible – she could definitely see the appeal.

"I want to!"

"Well, you can't. Harry's going home, and we're going home."

"I want to go in racing car!"

"Charles." Nikki had resorted to the classic stare off. Whilst stuck in the crossfire, Harry wondered if he should just tell her he didn't mind giving Charlie a lift home – but he had a feeling she wanted to be backed up and didn't want him to give in to Charlie's strop. He stayed silent.

"You told Uncle G you didn't need coffee!" This was true – Harry didn't feel like paying for something he could easily get at home, and Nikki wanted to be at home and on her sofa as soon as possible. Charlie had begun to a wail. "You said you drink coffee at home! You have to drink together!" After he had repeated this logic a few times, Harry became desperate for some kind of solution. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Nikki looked down at the text she'd just received, briefly taking her eyes off her stroppy son.

_I can take him home in my car_

Normally, Nikki would have politely refused this offer. On the rare occasion that Charlie did throw a tantrum, she refused to ever give into his demands. But she was exhausted, and quite frankly, she'd rather Harry deal with the various questions on penguins, polar bears and pilots on the drive home, than her.

"Harry's going to come for coffee,"

**I got inspiration for Charlie's personality after finding my brother's report from his nursery when he was 3-4 "He asks question about the war, and fully expects detailed answers."**

**I'm conscious that this is all happening very slowly and nothing interesting is happening – it feels like every single chapter is just filler. I'm sorry for that – I'm just trying to get a feeling of the characters as individuals first. Keep reading and reviewing and I promise – they'll be more about Graham, more about Lilly, more Charlie, and, most importantly, more Harry and Nikki. **


	8. Chapter 8

_Time may change me, but I can't trace time.  
><em>**David Bowie**

Friday

"I want Harry to play Lego,"

"The deal was you got to drive with Harry so that I could have a coffee with him," Nikki would have liked to have just hauled him up into her arms, but he was tall for 4 years old and it was a difficult enough task even on the best of days where she was full of energy. "Harry can't drink coffee and play Lego,"

"Lego's more important,"

"Don't push me."

"It's not fair!"

"It's bedtime." He still didn't budge. "BEDTIME. NOW." She hadn't wanted to raise her voice at him in front of Harry, but she didn't have the patience to try any other method.

"Goodnight," He mumbled, looking up at Harry, hoping the other adult would show some mercy.

"Night, Charlie," Charlie reluctantly shuffled down the hallway in front of Nikki.

With the distraction of Charlie, Harry hadn't had the chance to talk to Nikki, and what he was naively hoping would be their chance to catch up properly, ended up being a night where the main topics of conversation were desserts and deadly animals. He waited for Nikki's kettle to boil and sighed. When he thought about it, now that they finally had the chance to talk properly one on one, with neither worrying about being late back to work from lunch, he wasn't quite sure what they'd talk about. Graham, of course. And maybe Lilly, if he was ready. But what if neither of them felt like talking about their respective relationship crises? Would they be forced to sit and drink coffee in an awkward, long drawn out silence?

"He's not asleep, so try not to be too loud, or he'll think we're having lots of fun and want to join in," She looked stressed out and tired, and though it wasn't even 9 yet, Harry quickly felt guilty for having dragged her out, after what must have been a long week.

"Sorry for forcing you to come out tonight,"

"Don't be silly, it was nice," He looked at her sceptically. "I enjoyed it, Harry," She glanced down the hallway. "Though not as much as Charlie, I think,"

"He's cute,"

"He's a devil child,"

"Who got him interested in Spitfires?" From the dinner, Harry had realised Charlie had a weirdly accurate knowledge of aeroplanes, which would have been out of place on a 14 year old, never mind 4.

"God knows, mine and Graham's interest in history extends no further than knowing the rhyme about King Henry's wives,"

"Sugar?"

"No thanks,"

"When did G..." He had decided to jump in at the deep end, but quickly chickened out. "Giorgio become Uncle G?"

"Graham left 3 months ago,"

"Right,"

"You don't need to dance around the issue, Harry, it's alright,"

"Sorry, I just wasn't sure if, you know..." She raised an eyebrow, telling him that she didn't know. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I didn't know if we were close enough riends again for you to be comfortable speaking to me about...that,"

"I get it," She collapsed onto the sofa, cradling her coffee. "But I trust you, Harry." He smiled. "I wouldn't have let you pick up Charlie if I didn't," It was a good point.

"Why did he leave?"

"You know, just the clichéd - we argue all the time, Nikki," She impersonated him. "Maybe time apart will make us realise how much we need each other, and then we'll be more grateful for each other. And we won't argue then. We can't keep raising Charlie in a house where he can't hear himself think over our bickering." She sipped at her mug. "Of course, he had to bring Charlie into it – how could I refuse his plan then? I'd be refusing 'what's best for our son'."

"So, no other woman?"

"I honestly don't know," When she'd asked him, he categorically denied it; and she'd spent hours trying to subtly question Charlie after he returned home from days or weekends spent at his Dad's rented apartment, which as of yet, had been unfruitful. But she still had her suspicions. "If someone asked you, what would you say the difference between divorce and separation was? Apart from the obvious paperwork thing,"

"I really don't think I'm the right person to be asking, Niks, I'm..."

"No, I know, I know, you've never been married, blah, blah, blah. But if someone asked you; if they just asked you that, what would you say?" He ran his fingers over his bristly chin, reminding himself for the second time in a day that he needed to shave, and then let them stroll through his hair.

"Divorce is definite and separation is a sort of...purgatory, between staying together and divorce."

"And how long would you expect time in purgatory to last?"

"Niks, I really don't know," He took her hand, and stroked it gently with his thumb.

"Because he didn't tell me anything," And all the bitterness and resentment and pure anger that had inhabited her mind and face and voice previously, disappeared; and all he had left to look at was sadness. "He didn't tell me anything, Harry." And all she could see, through her weary eyes, was pity and guilt and sympathy and worry. And that only made her feel worse. "I thought he'd be back by now," Or gone for good – divorced - but she didn't dare say that aloud, in case it came true.

"Niks..."

"It's pathetic, really, isn't it?" She rubbed her eyes vigorously, stopping any tears that might have fallen, trying to pull herself together. "It's only been 3 months," She laughed at herself. "I can't even survive 3 bloody months alone."

"You're not pathetic," He took her hand, and squeezed it tightly. "You could never be pathetic, Niks," She liked that he was back. Nobody else called her Niks, and she had failed to realise how much she missed it until right then. And there was something about his hand, which made it different from any other hand that comforted her – it was warmer, softer, better fitting. She knew it sounded ridiculous – it was a hand, like any other, four fingers, one thumb – but it was his, and it was him, and he was Harry – her best friend.

"Is your love life as bad as mine?" It was hard to ignore the delicate pressure of his hand gripping on hers, it willed her to carry on, to tell him everything – to let him know that she wasn't ok, and that she had trouble understanding if she ever would be again. But she couldn't. She'd talk to him more another time, she decided – when she wasn't so tired and worn out and likely to cry all over him.

"Mine is nonexistent,"

"No lady left behind in America?"

"There was a lady," Lilly the vegan. Beautiful Lilly. Carefree Lilly. Lilly the bitch. "But that ended long before Leo called,"

"How long did she last?"

"Err..." He pretended to do the maths in his head. "4 years." 3 months, 2 days; he finished off to himself. She choked on her coffee.

"4 years?" He nodded. "God, I've missed a lot. 4 years, really?"

"4 years,"

"Is that a personal record?"

"Probably,"

"I can't believe it," She wished she'd been able to hide her surprise over the length of his relationship for long enough to ask why it had ended.

"I can't believe that last time I saw you, your diet consisted of takeaway and microwave meals, and now you're feeling guilty over having Bernard Matthews,"

"I guess we've both missed a lot," He agreed with her silently.

"More than I'd thought." He paused briefly, wondering if she'd be offended by his next comment. "You've changed." It seemed very obvious - of course she had. It had been 8 years – he had changed too. But somehow, a part of him, in the very back of his mind, had naively expected to return and for her to be exactly the same, as if she had been frozen in time.

"Good or bad change?" He wasn't quite sure what answer she wanted; luckily, he didn't have to reply.

"MUMMY!" The timing was so perfect, it was almost as if Charlie had wanted to emphasise Harry's observation – he still wasn't used to her being called 'Mummy'.

"I think that's my cue to leave," He stood up and took the mugs into the kitchen. "I've had a really nice evening,"

"Me too," She hugged him close. "And don't think I don't want to know more about this mystery woman,"

"Bye Niks,"


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm so tired, I don't know what to do.  
><em>**The Beatles**

Friday

"Granddad will get angry if he sees you," Nikki warned, as Charlie twirled around on Leo's chair, repeatedly pressing the up and down lever. Leo had already had to replace 2 chairs since Charlie had begun spending some time at the office since Graham had left. Nikki hadn't wanted him to be anywhere near their test equipment or anything that vaguely resembled a chemical, which left Leo's office as the only safe area.

"Granddad never gets angry with me," This was true – Leo couldn't have been softer if he tried.

"Yes he does,"

"When?"

"All the time,"

"Liar," Nikki hated to rare occasions where her 4 year old managed to outsmart her. They seemed to becoming more frequent too; she didn't dare even think about how hellish he would be as a teenager.

"I need help from you," Harry entered, waving a file at them.

"Me?"

"Me?" The excitement on Charlie's face contrasted with the look of horror that spread across Nikki's at the thought of having any more work.

"Mummy, sorry," The look of disappointment that spread across his face, left Harry feeling guilty. He'd buy him some sweets to make up for it. "Bones," He stated simply. She took the file from him and leafed through it. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Sin with Daddy!"

"Cinema," Nikki corrected.

"What to see?" Harry perched on the desk in front of the boy.

"Ice Age 4!"

"Ice Age 4? Wow. Have you seen the other 3?"

"Yes. Do you like the squirrel?"

"Yes," Harry had never seen an Ice Age film in his life. "He's my favourite character,"

"Sid's my favourite. He's got a funny face. I like Manny, but he's..." Charlie somehow managed to fill the next 10 minutes with a detailed analysis of each character, whilst Harry leant back and pretended to listen intently.

"It'll be the injury to the femur," She interrupted.

"I thought that, but look there," Harry pointed to a picture of a vertebra, with a large slash down it.

"Possibly. I'd have to actually look at them to be sure."

"They're in the lab,"

"Not today, I need to be out of here in," She looked at her watch. "Now,"

"That's ok,"

"Harry, watch this," Harry watched as Charlie lowered himself, and then shot straight back up, giggling excitedly.

"That's amazing," He pretended he hadn't seen him do exactly the same thing repeatedly for the past hour since Julie had dropped him off. "What are you doing tonight?"

"I already told you,"

"I was asking Mummy, buddy,"

"Come eat takeaway with me; I'll be back from dropping him off with Graham at about six-thirty," She said, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. "Come on, let's go see Daddy," He didn't like the way she just presumed he had nothing planned – she was right, of course – but it would have been nice if she'd followed with the usual 'Nothing, how about you?'.

"Bye, Harry,"

"See you,"

It didn't take her long to get to Graham's new flat. He'd been renting it since he moved out, which was a good sign, she guessed. Renting suggested maybe it wasn't permanent.

"Hello big boy!" He was still dressed in his suit when he hauled Charlie up into his arms – only reminding Nikki of how glad she was she didn't have to wear business-like clothing everyday. She hated pencil skirts and blazers and shirts. She didn't envy Graham's new job at the University one bit. "Hi Nikki," He added as they stepped inside.

"Hi," Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him – the man who married her; made an honest woman out of her as Harry had said; the man who had to live through her various cooking experiments; the one who cried more than her when their son was born. She wanted to be safe and happy and warm again. But she wanted to slap him too, for acting in a way that made all those other wonderful memories feel tainted and fake. She wanted to hurt him for hurting her.

"Can I watch Bob?" Nikki refused to pay for Sky, but Graham had fitted it pretty much as soon as he moved into his new home, and subsequently had recorded every Spongebob episode for Charlie.

"Of course, it's set up, just press the big button with the triangle," Charlie ran off into another room. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, I should get going," She smiled awkwardly. She had yet to work out how she was meant to behave around him – should they be friends? Ex's? Should she hate him? Should she still love him, after all there was still a chance they'd get back together, wasn't there?

"How are you?"

"Good,"

"How's work?"

"Not too busy,"

"Harry settling in ok?"

"Back to the old routine already,"

"That's good," A smile spread across his face, the awkward smile that appears once you realise you've run out of things to talk about.

"And work for you?"

"Really busy,"

"And out of work?"

"Out of work?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter, none of my business anyway," She said quickly, regretting her decision to finally pluck up the courage to ask him.

"Do you mean seeing someone?" She didn't reply. "Sort of; casually."

"That's," Horrible. Heart-breaking. Wrong. "Nice," Did that mean she was meant to date? She hadn't been sure of the rules she was meant to be living by – they hadn't really discussed them. She was in limbo, and she hated it.

"Nikki, it's not...it doesn't mean that we'll never...you know," She picked at the buttons on her Pea coat, wishing, not for the first time, that he wasn't so good at seeing through whatever front she put up. "Get back together. I still love you, I'll always love you, it's just...experimenting." She really wished he'd stop experimenting and just give her some sort of closure to the situation. She thought maybe she could deal with divorce, with difficulty of course, but she'd deal with it. Whereas this horrible purgatory, as Harry had called it, was killing her inside day by day. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yes, in between school runs, work, bedtime stories, cleaning, feeding, bathing, entertaining and sleeping, I have plenty of time for fun dates out." He looked down at the floor, guilty and embarassed at what he'd turned her into – someone bitter, and stressed, and angry, and exhausted, and sarcastic, and, the worst, sad.

"I can have him more, if..."

"When? You say you can't have him during the week because of work, you can't have him when I'm on call, because it's 'too short notice'," She hated him when he'd said that – 'too short notice' – it made it sound looking after his son was some kind of business deal; something he was only doing because he was contractually obliged to. She wondered if he'd always been this pathetically useless, and she just hadn't seen it.

"I'll take him every weekend,"

"Yes, that's a brilliant idea. You have him when he's not stroppy, and have fun and you can do anything you like together. It's ok, I'll deal with packed lunches and arguments, all that stupid tedious stuff – it's no biggy, it's my favourite part of being a parent. Really it is,"

"Nikki, I'm finding this just as ha..."

"Don't you dare say that you're finding this as hard as me. You are _not _finding it as hard as me. Not even _close_," She sighed. "I don't want to argue." She did, god, she really did. Maybe arguing was the only way to find out where she stood. She wanted to scream at him for being so selfish and thoughtless; for ruining her life; for not being grown-up enough to just make a definite decision. But for now, she was tired, and she was fairly sure she'd give in halfway through, which would make him think he'd got his way. She was determined not to let him get his way. She walked past him and into the living room, where Charlie was curled up on the sofa, watching his programme. She knelt down in front of him.

"Mummy, SpongeBob just hit Squidward!"

"That's..." She'd forgotten who was the baddy. "Horrible?"

"It's great!"

"Ok, sweetie," She took the remote out of his hands and pressed pause.

"Mummy!" He screamed, his eyes pleading with her to turn it back on.

"Charlie, I'm going to go now, ok?" She hated leaving him. She'd improved after a few times, and now managed to hold back the tears (though she never understood why she cried in the first place, it wasn't like she was leaving him somewhere unsafe) "Be good for Daddy and have lots of fun, ok?" He nodded; she could tell he wasn't all too bothered about saying goodbye to his mum, instead desperate to have the TV back on. "I'll see you on Sunday. That's in two nights, ok? If you need anything tell Daddy to call me, ok?" She'd never told him to get Graham to call her when the boys went out alone when they were living together, so she wasn't sure why she suddenly felt that he was incapable of looking after his own son. Maybe he was because he'd stopped being capable of looking after her.

"Ok," He allowed her to hug him briefly.

"Love you, sweetie,"

"Love you," She drew away and looked into his face, wishing she could just take him back home with her. "Can I watch now?" Did he really love a TV programme more than her? No, Nikki, she told herself; he's 4 years old – he's not intuitive enough to understand why Mummy and Daddy aren't living the same house anymore, never mind understanding your feelings about leaving him, for what he considers as a weekend of fun.

"Of course," She pressed play, ruffled his hair and took one last look at him before going back into the hallway.

"I'll drop him off Sunday afternoon,"

"Ok,"

"So, I guess I'll..."

"See you,"

"Yeah – I'll see you soon,"

"Bye Graham,"

**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! If you have any suggestions for improvement, fire away!**


	10. Chapter 10

_We stayed in by the telly.  
><em>**Squeeze**

Friday

She sat in her car for a long time, head pressed against the steering wheel, trying to gain some sort of composure before getting out. She hated how pathetic he made her. Seeing him in his clean flat, brightly lit by the massive glass window that stretched across the living room wall, with his son to cuddle up with and read stories to, only made her more resentful of her large, empty home, with nobody to talk to, never mind cuddle. She'd been perfectly capable of going home to an empty house before he came along; why couldn't she now?

Shit.

She jolted upright at the sound of someone tapping at the window. She turned her head to see a stupid lopsided grin, shining in the darkness. He _must_ have had his teeth whitened.

She'd forgotten she'd invited Harry over. Maybe the house wouldn't be so empty after all.

He opened the door for her, and waved his arm in a large gesture, before bowing; the whole routine reminding her of a weird cross between a car valet and a Mr Darcy like character helping her down from a carriage.

"Mi Lady,"

"What's in your bag?" She's questioned, rolling her eyes at his little display.

"For me to know and you to find out,"

"We need to order takeaway,"

"You're just going to accept it like that?" The old Nikki he had known would have demanded an answer.

"Accept what like what?"

"That I'm not going to tell you what's in the bag,"

"Too tired to argue," She mumbled, as she unlocked the front door. "How long have you been here?" She asked after looking at her watch, and seeing it was 7, realising she'd told him she would have been home for 6:30. Although, she reasoned, it had been a very off hand, casual estimation – she doubted he would have stuck to it in the same way as you stuck to a time for a meal out.

"Couple of hours," She rolled her eyes, making her way into the kitchen to hunt out the takeaway menu from one of the various untidy drawers. That would have to be her task for her next day off. She made a mental note to put it on her to-do list. "Just a few minutes,"

Her new house was nice – very nice. He hadn't properly taken it in on his first visit 2 weeks previously – he'd been more focused on making sure Charlie got out of his car and into the house. He wondered whether it was bought or if she rented. It must have cost a fortune – bay windows protruded from the white, period walls and the main hall had what looked like original oak board flooring. There was a carpet runner up the stairs and the kitchen she led him into was like one he thought could only ever exist on TV - pans hanging from a ceiling rack, a fruit bowl in the centre of a large breakfast bar, wooden cabinets and pale green walls.

Then there was the surrounding mess, which probably wouldn't have been there if it was a TV kitchen.

Plastic trains littered the floor, and the sleek fridge had alphabet magnets and various drawings stuck up on it. Harry peeked round the corner to see the open plan dining area, where the table seemed to be home to a Lego castle.

It all seemed far too domesticated for the Nikki he knew.

"What do you want?" Nikki asked, leafing through the menu.

"Chow mein," He put his bag up on the counter and pulled out 2 bottles of wine.

"Chicken?"

"Sure,"

"Open the wine," She watched as Harry hunted through her cupboards for glasses, as she ordered. He used to know where everything was in her kitchen. Eventually, he found them, and handed her a full glass. "It'll be about half an hour," She said, putting down the phone and picking up the DVDs he had brought. "Monty Python? You know I hate Monty Python,"

"I took a chance," He shrugged. "I thought maybe you'd developed a sense of humour and taste in my absence,"

"Sure," She put it back in the bag. "Die Hard? Really?"

"Again, took a chance,"

"You thought I'd become a man?"

"Anything can happen," He grinned.

"You don't even like Die Hard,"

"I do,"

"You're not manly enough to like Die Hard," Before he could protest, she'd moved onto his next DVD. "Star Wars. That one doesn't even need discussing," Back in the bag it went. "That's all you brought?" He nodded. "Terrible."

"We're not watching one of yours," He said quickly, following her into the large living room.

"It's our only choice," She argued, kneeling down on the floor.

"It's not; I brought 3 perfectly good DVDs,"

"For a man," She began pulling out the Disney DVDs that occupied the front of the shelf to get to the layer of DVDs behind them, where the adults movies were kept, out of her son's sight – although, just to be safe, she'd hidden anything with a rating above 12 on a higher shelf that Charlie couldn't reach. She cringed slightly seeing that all of Graham's favourites were there. "This one is perfectly good," She said, sliding the DVD into the player and picking up her wine glass, before sitting down on one of the large leather sofas. "You can sit down, you know," She smiled at his awkwardness. He nodded quickly, wishing he could feel as at home as he did in her old flat, and joined her.

He groaned as the opening titles appeared.

"Nikki!" He wailed.

"What?"

"I am _not _watching this,"

"Yes you are," All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep, and was beginning to regret inviting him over. She was far too tired to put up with a film he'd enjoy.

"What is it with girls and The Notebook? Lilly was _obsessed_,"

"Lilly?" Damn. He spent the past week hoping she wouldn't ask him about his girlfriend, and it was him who had foolishly brought it hope. Stupid Harry. "Oh," She caught on. "The 4 year girl?"

"The 4 year girl," He confirmed.

"What happened?"

"Lots of things,"

She struggled to remember him sadder than he was at that very moment. Of course, she'd seen him sad before, but this was different. This was hopelessness; a lack of faith; no willingness to do anything about the sadness; anger; betrayal; crushed dreams, and finally, worst of all, a sense of mourning of something that could never be retrieved or made good again. She wondered if he'd meant for her to see this – to see him fragile and open and hurt – maybe he'd thought she would no longer be able to pick apart his emotions like she used to, that time may have taken that gift away from her. It hadn't.

"What things?" She wondered if it was the right question. She had a habit of asking the wrong question at the wrong time. And she really didn't want this to be one of those occasions. For she genuinely cared, and wanted to be helpful, she wanted to make up for being unable to help for the years previous. And she was no longer tired, for there was no longer space or time for tiredness, her thoughts were full of him – not only him, but of her too, this mysterious, unknown woman who seemed to have hurt him so.

"I don't know. Normal relationship stuff." The doorbell rang.

Once they were settled down with their food, she didn't ask any more questions about the girl. He didn't seem to want to talk. And, once she let her thoughts become less focussed on his heartbreak, she remembered how tired she was, and found she too had no desire to open her mouth for any purpose other than shovelling in her food.

**Apologies for the lateness – I've spent the past week glue to Captain Corelli's Mandolin – a new candidate for favourite book I think. I'll be posting something to do with the Secrets challenge soon – just tweaking it. Thanks for reviewing and reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

_I don't care what you say anymore, this is my life__, g__o ahead with your own life, leave me alone.  
><em>**Billy Joel**

Saturday

"Harry!" He groaned and turned over in bed. "Harry, your phone is buzzing!" His mum called up the stairs. "Harry, come answer it!" He reminded himself to make more of an effort in his apartment hunt.

"You answer it!"

"I can't work out the buttons," He sighed, and reluctantly dragged himself up.

"Pass it here," He ordered, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"It's stopped ringing now," She said, handing him his phone. "Do you want a coffee?"

"Sure,"

"Can you walk Bernie for me?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Trevor's out all day, and I told him I'd do it for him, but I forgot I'd already agreed to spend the day with Sandra, so I don't really have the time." Harry cursed inwardly – his pensioner mother had a more active social life than him. "Will you?"

"This Trevor guy isn't just a casual one off date, then?"

"Harry, it's walking his dog. He's hardly asked me to marry him, dear,"

"How many dates have you had with him?" He asked, a mischievous grin on his face.

"A few,"

"When do I get to meet him?"

"Will you please just walk the dog?"

"Sure,"

"I'll leave the house key..."

"You have a spare key? How serious is this, Mother dear?" He teased. She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"I'll write down the address. Take him out for a bit, make sure he does his business, and then give him a biscuit when you take him back – they're in the cupboard next to the cooker,"

"Will do,"

He retreated into the living room, hoping for some privacy.

"_Hi, Harry," _He cupped his coffee in his hand, appreciating the warmth it radiated. He hated Autumn, for the same reason he hated Spring – it was an in between time, where it was neither Winter nor Summer, two seasons which he tended to enjoy, and he was left to do nothing but wait for Winter or to reminisce about Summer. _"Sorry for crashing out on you last night – more tired than I thought, I guess. As I am child-free, I wondered if maybe you wanted to do something today. We could go see a film or something. Or not, if you're busy, it's fine. You're probably still in bed, lazy git, so I'll call back later." _

He looked through his phone book and pressed call. Once upon a time, he had known her number by heart, and just punched it in – but she'd got a new one.

"_Hello,"_

"I wasn't asleep; I was in the shower,"

"_Yeah right. You never wake up before 11 on days off," _

"I'm a changed man, Nicola. I've matured,"

"_I'll believe that when pigs fly," _He chuckled. _"So, cinema?"_

"I already have a dog walking appointment,"

"_Moonlighting?"_

"Something like that,"

"_How badly __**is **__Leo paying you?"_

"You can come keep me company,"

"_I'm not an outdoorsy girl,"_

"I'm well aware. It will be a leisurely stroll through the Gardens," He could tell she had been looking forward to a day of absolutely no effort from the silence that followed his suggestion. "I'll even buy you coffee and cake if you behave," There was a long pause.

"_Well, now I just can't refuse, can I?" She giggled. "I'll meet you by the playground,"_

"The playground?"

"_Princess Diana's playground," _He stayed silent. _"Oh come on Harry, you must know where it is,"_

"I a, have no children and b, haven't lived in London for the past 8 years. I don't know where it is,"

"_Use a map,"_

"Can we not just meet somewhere else?"

"_No, it's easy. Meet you there at one?"_

"Ok," He agreed reluctantly before hanging up.

"I take it you're walking him with Nikki then?"

"Privacy Mum!" He moaned as he returned to the kitchen.

"She's only a friend!" She tried to hide the resentment in her voice. "I gave you privacy with Lilly, didn't I?"

"Only because you lived thousands of miles away,"

"Not the point,"

"What is, then? You were listening in on my conversation..."

"Which," She interrupted. "Was about walking a dog. Hardly MI6 top secret stuff, is it Harry?"

"It might have been!"

"Oh lay off it," She flicked over the page of the newspaper dramatically. "Like you're going to be having a conversation with anyone but Nikki, and like that conversation is going to be about anything 'private',"

He wished he could have called her something, anything, just to let his anger out, but, no matter how much at times she acted like the annoying sibling he never had, she was his mother, and therefore he had to be polite – no matter how excruciatingly _right _she was about everything.

**Aren't parents just the **_**worst**_**? :)**


	12. Chapter 12

_You've changed, for the better.  
><em>**Sia**

"What happened to all days off being full of housework, then?" He questioned, giving her a quick hug to greet her, before walking along the path, joining the stream of people wondering aimlessly around on the cold October morning.

"I made an exception," She smiled, linking her arm with his, a movement which years before would have been commonplace, but now took him by surprise. "I just couldn't wait to find out more about this new 'mature' Harry who has long term relationships and apparently wakes up before 2 on days off,"

"You said 11!"

"I've since decided I was wrong. It's most definitely usually 2,"

"Lies," He smiled. "All lies," They walked in silence for a while.

"Tell me about her," She pleaded softly. He took a deep breath and gave in – he was going to have to tell her about it at some point, so why not sooner than later, he reasoned. Hopefully he could miss off the ending though – for now, at least.

"Which part?"

"From the very beginning," She smiled at the small Yorkshire terrier, as he nuzzled through the fallen leaves, occasionally stopping to further investigate a smell. "I can't believe I completely missed all of it. I want to catch up,"

"The beginning?"

"The beginning. How did you meet?"

"She's a friend's little sister,"

"Classy," She smiled to let him know she was only teasing.

"Hush you," He smiled back. "She wasn't that young,"

"20s?"

"She was 28 when I first started seeing her,"

"That's the Harry I know and love,"

"Do you want to hear about my epic romance, or do you want to tease me?"

"Can't I do both?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm listening," She squeezed his arm.

"I was best man at her brother's wedding, and she was a bridesmaid, so on and so forth,"

"You were best man?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry, I just...I guess I forgot that...it doesn't matter, it's silly,"

"What?" She stayed silent, so he nudged her gently with his elbow. "What's silly?"

"I just...I didn't realise we'd spent so long apart to become friends with other people to the point of being their best man,"

"It has been 8 years,"

"I know, I know,"

"And you're best friends with Julie, right? It's the same," She stayed quiet. "And, you managed to get married to a guy I've met once, and then I managed to have a long term relationship that you didn't even _know _about, you know? 8 years is a long time, we're bound to have..."

"I know, Harry, ok?" She snapped. "I told you it was silly. I just..."

"Half expected time to have frozen?" She opened her mouth to argue, but he quickly continued. "I don't mean it in a horrible, condescending way, don't feel offended. I just mean it..." He struggled to explain. "I just mean it as it is, I guess. It's the same for me Nikki," He laughed. "God, it's worse for me,"

"Worse?"

"Well, at the end of the day, I'm still the same, right?" He reasoned. "I mean, sure, I've had this relationship you didn't know about, but I've come out of it the same as I was 8 years ago. I'm still just me – bachelor Harry – whereas you...you're suddenly Supermum; and I missed the entire transition from single girl to domestic goddess, so it makes it even more surreal."

"I guess you're right,"

"You guess?" He nudged her playfully. "You _know_," They settled back into silence then, strolling along as if neither had a care in the world.

"What was she like?" Nikki finally broke the quiet, eager to know more about the mysterious girl.

"Pretty," Thinking of her bright blue eyes used to make him fuzzy inside, but now the thought of the deceit that lay behind them, left him reeling in pain. "Too pretty really, I should have realised it wasn't going to end well,"

"Blinded by beauty, right?"

"Something like that. She was lovely, really lovely. But too young, you know? Even for her age, she was young – not quite grown up, bit immature. Too naive." He kicked the leaves at his feet. "And I found that exciting at first, as always – it was like I was young again. But, then it didn't end quickly like all the others had done, and when we rented an apartment together, it just...I couldn't ignore that we wanted different things," He kicked some more leaves, accidentally covering the small dog, who shook them off, before looking up at Harry. "Sorry Bernie." He bent down to tousle the dog's head. "She liked the _idea _of living together, and being domestic, but never really settled into it, you know? Whereas I genuinely wanted that – staying in watching movies, arguing about washing up, starting a family. And I think maybe she did want that, but just not so soon and not with someone 14 years old than her."

"Sworn off the young forever, then?" She felt stupid after it came out, wishing she had thought of something more comforting, but there was nothing else she could think to say.

"Sworn off women in general,"

"I've always wanted a gay best friend!" She teased, unsure of how else to deal with the situation if not with humour.

"I always wanted a funny best friend," He smiled. "But as Mum always said, I want never gets,"

"Idiot," She hit him, her eyes lighting up in a way he hadn't seen in the 2 weeks he'd been back – they no longer looked tired, as he had become accustomed to – he was fairly certain she'd finally had a decent night's sleep. There was still pain there, and stress, and worry, but for the most part, he could almost imagine she was exactly the same as she had been 8 years ago.

"Do you want that coffee now?"

"He's not really had a long walk," She nodded towards Bernie, who was still sniffing the fallen foliage, crisscrossing from side to side on the path, not quite sure which direction he wanted to go.

"We'll get it from the cafe by the memorial, then walk a bit more,"

As they made their way towards the cafe, Nikki stopped abruptly, causing their arms to disconnect and Harry to look back at her confused.

"Harry, promise me something," He raised an eyebrow. "Don't ask about Graham today." He nodded. "I know you're interested, but I just...I want a break today,"

"Who's Graham?" He asked jovially, letting his mouth slip into a boyish lopsided grin.

Once they'd finished they're drinks, they started off back on the path up to the playground, stopping by the Round Pond. They stood in silence, admiring the mist that hung above the water –it floated, as if the frozen breath of every person who dared venture outside into the damp cold had been collected together and dumped there. There was a couple close to them, fussing over their new child, he could just make out their conversation, the mother insisting that the tiny creature wasn't wrapped up warm enough in its pram, the father pleading with her that 5 blankets was plenty; Harry wondered if Nikki had been like that.

"I wish I had some bread," He observed, fed up with letting his mind fill with images of Nikki doting over a tiny baby, as he looked out at the large gathering of ducks. Nikki nodded in agreement.

"Charlie loves coming he..."

It wasn't the force that did it, not really; he was hardly a large dog, in fact, quite the opposite – he was tiny, the kind you'd expect to sit on an old lady's lap during Corrie. It was the surprise; after all, Bernie had been well behaved all day. She hadn't expected him to tug on the lead as soon as he spotted the floating bits of bread, from a young child, taking her with him into the water.

Later, she'd hit him for laughing.

**Hopefully I'll update more regularly soon – and hopefully I'll find out when the next series is airing soon too!**


	13. Chapter 13

**All you have to do is call, and I'll be there.  
><strong>James Taylor

Friday

Nikki breezed in, placing a cup of Harry's favourite coffee on his desk, before sitting down at her own, quickly getting back to work.

"You're being especially nice today," He observed, gratefully taking a sip. She'd been in a mood all week since the incident at the pond, which he thought was a little unfair. Ok, so he _had _laughed, but he did help her out, rather heroically he liked to imagine. When he had raised this point, Nikki had complained that all heroism had been taken out by his persistent laughter on the way back to Trevor's house. There was no pleasing some people. "Taking the boring case, paying for lunch, bringing me coffee..." He stopped, his mind quickly putting two and two together. "You need something," She looked up, hoping he still responded to her puppy dog eyes like he always had before. "A favour?"

"It's Charlie's parents evening tonight,"

"Yes?"

"And my babysitter called last night to say she was ill..."

"If you're asking me to recommend a babysitter, you may possibly be stupider than I first thought,"

"I'm not asking you to recommend one," She paused, trying to smile even wider than she already was – just to let him know quite how desperate she was. "I'm asking you to be one,"

"Sure," He answered quickly, before looking back down at his report.

"Sure?"

"Yes," He clarified, looking up at her as if she was simple. "Sure,"

"Just like that? Sure?"

"Yes,"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why?"

"I'm confused," He put his pen down. "Do you want me to look after your son or..."

"No, I do," She assured him quickly, conscious that he would change his mind. "I really do. I just..."

"I like him," Harry shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He's funny,"

"I know, but it's a Friday night. I thought you'd have plans. You don't want to spend your Friday night sat playing...lego with a 4 year old,"

"Are you trying to convince me to not..."

"Not at all," She really wished she could force herself to shut up and just say thank you. "I'm just surprised. I thought you'd take more persuading."

"He's fun," Harry shrugged again.

"But he's messy and he's loud and he tries to fly off high furniture and...he's _four_."

"Will you just stop?" He laughed.

"So I didn't need to get you the coffee?" Harry shook his head. "And you'd still have said yes if I hadn't paid for your lunch?"

"Yep," He turned over to the next page of his report; before looking up to see her mouth practically wide open. "Nikki, I will be your backup whenever you need it, ok?" She nodded, still a little dumbfounded.

"It always used to be so hard to get you to..." Memories of trying to convince him to go shopping with her, or help her with some DIY, flooded back.

"Will you please just go back to work?" He laughed, trying to turn his attention back at the paperwork that had been plaguing his life for the past 4 days.

"Yes," She made her way into the cutting room, but stopped. "Thank you," She said, turning round to smile at him, just double checking it was ok. She'd half expected him to tell her he had a date of some kind, and have to ask Janet again for what seemed like the 100th time in a week. Though, he hadn't seemed that interested in dates in the few weeks he'd been back, which was unusual for the Harry she knew. That Lilly girl must have really got to him.

"Text me a time later, cap'in," He saluted, grinned and let his attention focus back on the report.

When he was certainly she was safely out of earshot, he phoned his Mum to say he wouldn't be able to get to the dinner she'd arranged with Trevor after all – he was helping out a friend. A friend who seemed dangerously close to spontaneously combusting under stress.

**Has anyone else seen the interview with Emilia? If nothing happens now, I'll shoot the writers!**


	14. Chapter 14

_I can hide, you seek, come find me.  
><em>**Gabe Bondoc**

He'd had second thoughts about the contents of his bag, to the point where he'd turned back with the intention of returning the goods at least 3 times. Yet, he had not. Despite the item remaining with him, he was still uncertain as to whether he would actually make use of it. He'd bought it after what, at the time he had considered, a brainwave. He later on realised that this brainwave may not actually have been the Eureka moment he first thought – his mind became plagued with doubts, realising all the things that could possibly go wrong.

At first he had thought it perfect – he'd made his first at the age of 4, so it was definitely age appropriate. And, it seemed there could be no toy more perfectly designed for a child who loved both aircraft and building Lego. He then realised, as he made his way out of the shop, that in fact, he had been at least 8 before his father had let him anywhere near one, or the building materials it required. This one little doubt, rapidly multiplied in his mind, until thousands were created. They were awfully delicate; the small boy would probably break a vital piece. How could Harry know whether Charlie already owned one; what if Graham had long ago had the same stroke of genius as Harry? He remembered Nikki's worried gaze, monitoring Charlie's every move as he sat in Leo's office, terrified that he'd run out when she wasn't looking and come into contact with some sort of toxic chemical – surely, she wouldn't approve of him being anywhere near white spirit or the strong glue used. And what if he swallowed one of the tiny pieces? Did 4 year olds still put things in their mouth, or did children grow out of that by the time they were attending school? Harry had no clue.

Standing in the cold, he seriously regretted his decision the buy the Spitfire Airfix kit.

She opened the door, and straight away turned back into the kitchen, leaving him to follow her.

"Hello," Harry looked around, curious as to where Charlie was.

"Hi," She seemed a bit flustered. "Right, he's in is pyjamas, so if, god forbid, this stupid thing goes on past eight-thirty, just make sure he brushes his teeth and put him to bed. But really I should be home before then," She began scribbling down numbers on a piece of paper. "He always has milk and a biscuit, but don't let him have more than 2 biscuits. Milk is in the fridge, biscuits in the cupboard over the oven. Only watch the movies on the bottom shelf at the front; don't get him too giddy or he won't go to sleep; don't swear; if he asks you to read to him, make him read every other page, he's lazy about reading, but he needs to otherwise he'll never learn, so just insist on it," She handed him the piece of paper. "The school's number, sometimes my mobile doesn't get good signal, so if you need me, ring that. Oh, I better give you Janet and Leo's too, just in case," She took it back from his hands, but he snatched it back quickly.

"Nikki," He looked down at her, as if he were a father telling off a child. "I know Janet and Leo's number. Stop worrying. Go have fun,"

"Fun?" She scoffed, grabbing her keys from the side. "It's a parents' evening. He's four years old; they spend most of the lessons playing in a sandpit – it's hardly going to be enlightening. It seems a bit pointless really; he already gives me a detailed run down of school every single d..."

"Go, you're getting distracted,"

"Yes, yes, I'm going," She then began searching a cupboard. "I'll just check we actually have biscu..."

"Go!" He shouted, laughing at her.

"Yes, right, gone," She pulled her handbag over her shoulder and disappeared out of the door. She paused briefly on the step and laughed at the sound of Harry's shriek, presuming Charlie had jumped out of his hiding place. Her smile left quickly though, as she winced, listening to Charlie's excited giggles and screams, and guessed that Harry had begun chasing or tickling him in revenge. She was going to have trouble getting him to sleep.

Once Harry was satisfied Charlie had learnt his lesson, he stopped his attack and let the young boy run out of his grasp.

"What do you want to do?" Harry asked across the room.

"Lego," Charlie led him from the living room up to what Harry presumed was his bedroom, from the sea of toy cars that littered the floor, and directed the elder man to pick up a large plastic box. They went back downstairs and settled down at the dining table, and begun to work on what slowly began to look like a large, multi-coloured house. For some reason a giraffe stood atop what looked like a chimney, which Charlie explained was from a Zoo kit he received the previous Christmas. He actually made a story up as to how the Giraffe managed to get up there, but Harry was too focused on the getting a monkey's hand to grip a tree branch to listen properly. Harry's attempts at bringing some kind of logic to the task, like having a door on the ground floor instead of second, were quickly shot down and eventually he learnt it was best to just do what he was told.

"I'm thirsty," Charlie declared, standing back and surveying his work.

"Ok," Harry began to make his way to the kitchen, hoping to hide his bag, to avoid having to actually use the Airfix kit, terrified of what Nikki would think, but Charlie shot past him. When he caught up, he found the child with the box in hand, looking down on it in awe.

"What's this?" He asked wide eyed.

"It's a model. You make it,"

"It's a Spitfire,"

"Yes," He half hoped the boy would find something so old fashioned unappealing and discard it for a computer game of some kind. Or at least go back to his Lego.

"Can we make it?"

"Charlie, it's quite..."

"I want to make it!" Sod it. He wasn't dealing with a stroppy child – they'd make the thing. It would be fun.

Surprisingly, Charlie did very well at keeping to his promise to stay away from the glue, letting Harry piece it together whilst he popped each piece out of the plastic framing and watched intently.

As they waited for the glue to dry, they sat with a glass of milk each, Harry once again listening to Charlie's vivid descriptions of Ice Age characters. He made a mental note to watch it sometime, so that he actually understood what he was blabbering on about.

He found some of Nikki's latex gloves for Charlie to wear, so he didn't get any of the oil based paint it on his skin, and tucked a tea towel over his t-shirt, hoping that he didn't spill too much. He used the newspaper to cover the table, and after attempting to show him how to do it, let the boy loose. He was surprisingly careful, focusing intently on the task at hand, and managed to paint the whole plane, but left the tiny pilot to Harry's delicate surgeon hands.

Neither of them noticed the sound of Nikki arriving home.

"Was he good?" She asked, rounding the corner into the dining room. "Oh, you're still up," She glanced at her watch – nine thirty. She'd gone for a drink afterwards with Julie, and they'd both come back for a takeaway. Charlie didn't look up from his project to greet his mother. Harry looked at the clock, and felt guilty for not doing his job properly.

"Sorry, I lost track of the time,"

"It's ok," She smiled, her mood enhanced by the glass of wine she'd had. "Julie, you've already met Harry,"

"Yes," She smiled.

"I'd shake your hand but..." Harry held up his paint stained hands as an explanation.

"Oh god," Nikki dropped her bag and rushed over to Charlie. "You haven't got it all over you, have you?" She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the blue gloves, tied around his wrists with an elastic band because of their size. "Bedtime, mister,"

"Please!" He begged, looking up for the first time. "Please!"

"We have to talk about what your teacher told me, I'm very angry with you," She didn't sound angry, Harry mused – more entertained than angry. Maybe she just felt she _should _be angry. "You're already an hour late, come on,"

"I want to finish!" She looked down into his blue orbs, and felt a pang of nostalgia, as if she were looking into her own childhood eyes, asking her mother to be allowed to watch the sunset over the plains.

"Ok," She conceded reluctantly. "But once you're finished, bed."

"We're ordering a takeaway; do you want some, Harry?" Julie asked, rummaging through the drawers for a menu.

"Chinese?"

"Indian,"

"I'll pass,"

"Sure?"

"Yep,"

As their exchange took place, Nikki bent over her son, surveying his work.

"What type of plane is that?" She asked.

"Spitfire," He replied curtly, his tongue peeking out of his lips, all his attention on the job at hand.

"Where did you get it?"

"Harry,"

"Have you been making it all night?"

"Mummy," He dropped his paintbrush and looked up at her. "Stop talking, I'm busy,"

"Oh, right, sorry," She resisted the urge to giggle at his deadly serious expression. "It looks very good, sweetie," She ruffled his hair and left him to it. "Your bit looks very good too," She giggled patronisingly at Harry, who smiled back, glad that she wasn't angry that Charlie was less than 30cm away from a big jar of turpentine. "Right then. Come get me when you're done, Charlie,"

The two women ordered their food and then made their way into the living room, wine glasses in hand.

"He's so cute," Julie collapsed onto the sofa, pushing her shoes off with her feet.

"I know," Nikki smiled. "He's a little devil though," The other woman smiled knowingly. "What?"

"Not Charlie," She chuckled. "Harry,"

"Oh, right," She flushed with embarrassment, taking another gulp of wine, hoping to pass the reddening cheeks off as a side effect of being slightly tipsy.

"You don't agree?"

"He was my best friend," She wondered for how much longer she'd continue to use past tense.

"So? I'm your best friend, and you still can't take your eyes off me," Julie winked dramatically.

"That is true," Nikki giggled.

Over their laughter and constant chatter, neither women noticed the sound of small footsteps, followed by larger ones, ascending the stairs, nor did they hear the sounds of tidying up in the kitchen. When the doorbell rang, they made a slow effort to get up to answer it, but by the time they had reached the door, Harry had already collected the order and sent the delivery boy on his way. He handed the bag over to Julie, whilst reassuring Nikki that Charlie was safely tucked up in bed and that she should enjoy the rest of her night. He said goodnight to them both, and when Julie went into the kitchen to sort out plates, Nikki flung her arms around him, in a very similar fashion as she had done on his first day back.

"Thank you so much," She whispered into the crevice of his neck, trying her best to ignore the perfect fit.

"I probably had more fun than he did," He smiled at the feel of the soft rise and fall of her chest as she laughed.

"I doubt that,"

"Seriously, though," He started as they pulled apart. "Anytime,"

"Thank you,"

**After reading your reviews, it seems like the babysitting should have been more chaotic. Hope this is an OK substitute!**

**I'm sorry for the hopeless lack of updates – time seems to run away from me. I'll try post another chapter before I go away on Thursday (missing the second episode of Series 15, I could cry from looking at how good it might be) Anyway, Happy Easter!**


	15. Chapter 15

_It would be so nice to hear from you again, my old friend.  
><em>**JJ Cale**

"HARRY!" He moaned, rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head. "IT'S YOUR PHONE AGAIN HARRY!"

"Bloody hell," He muttered, dragging himself up, before taking the stairs two at a time, hoping he'd get there before it stopped ringing. He considered showing his Mum which button to press to answer it, for future similar situations, but then realised this would probably lead to her having in depth conversations with everyone who ever attempted to ring him – which was definitely something he wanted to avoid. He resolved to remember to take it upstairs with him in future.

"I'm going out with Trevor," She handed him the phone as she brushed past into the hallway. "You'll be able to make dinner yourself?"

"You're staying out all day?"

"We're going to the countryside somewhere," She pecked him on the cheek. "Have a nice day, get some work done," She was right – he really did need to catch up on his reports. Only a few weeks in and he was already behind. But he couldn't quite bring himself to waste his free Saturday working – he'd probably be called in on a case in the evening anyway, knowing his luck.

"If this is more babysitting, I'm now charging a fiver an hour," He answered brightly, knowing there was nobody else it could be.

"_Hello to you too," _

"Tom?"

"_Do you not look at your caller ID?"_

"Sorry, was expecting a call from someone else," Well, he wasn't – but nobody else had phoned in the past week_,_ so he figured it was round about the same thing. "How are you?" He continued happily, worried that he might have seemed disappointed when he realised it wasn't Nikki – he wasn't (maybe a little bit) – it was great to be hearing from a friend – his best friend.

"_Just heard that I can have an extra 2 weeks leave this year,"_

"That's good,"

"_Isn't it just," _Harry smiled at the sound of the familiar Boston drawl. At one point he'd been tempted to try and pick it up, but realised people seemed to be far more interested and friendly towards him if he had an 'adorable British accent'. _"Meredith's never visited the homeland," _He had found refugee with Meredith, Tom's wife. A Canadian, she associated herself more with Britain than American, leaving her and Harry to spend hours discussing the history and politics of their 'homeland'.

"Really?"

"_Really. DON'T TOUCH YOUR SISTER WITH THAT!" _Harry chuckled. _"Sorry, Sammy's decided he likes glue. Right, so, I was thinking," _His friend stopped abruptly again. _"Gimme a minute," _Harry heard the thump of the phone being discarded onto the nearest surface, and in the background strained to make out the faint sounds of a child being told off. _"Mere's away for the week." _He couldn't help but laugh at Tom's breathlessness.

"I could always pop round and help?" It was something he'd done regularly when Tom was left alone with the twins. They'd take a child each and make it into a competition – the one with the least stains, or other noticeable unwanted marks, on both adult and child combined, by the end of the day, would win. The loser would have to buy the night's beer.

"_Yeah, great, when can you be over?" _

"Few hours?"

"_Fuck off. You're probably sat in some fancy bachelor's pad, aren't you?" _Harry's last email had mostly consisted of details of his flat hunting, which had begun to gather momentum since he'd realised Mum had been through his drawers, leaving a pack of condoms in with his underwear, with a little note saying 'Don't let me put you off bringing dates home'. He had tried to ignore the knowing smile she'd given him at dinner that night. _"Actually, wait to tell me by email, I don't want you to actually hear my jealous weeping." _He'd managed to find a fair few decent places, and was meant to be looking round some in the afternoon.

"Real men don't cry,"

"_Real men don't play 'rescue Barbie from the doll house fire' either." _He'd hoped Tom would have forgotten that particular day. _"Our masculinity isn't the point. I want to come on vacation to London," _

"That's great!"

"_I know. You might have to introduce us to the lady,"_

"Which lady?"

"_The one you were expecting a call from."_

"Who said it was a lady?"

"_Your tone of voice." _

"Ok then,"

"_Who is she?"_

"Just Nikki,"

"_Best friend Nikki?"_

"Yes,"

"_Got into her pants yet?"_

"Jesus, Tom!"

"_Oh sorry, only remembered your incessant pining over her for months, forgot all about the addition of husband and child since you were last with her." _

"She's happily married," He was tempted to point out that he had never been 'with' her, and that he wasn't pining after her, just missing her, but thought this would only prove as more ammunition for his friend.

"_She's got a divorce?"_

"No? I just said..."

"_You're a bad liar." _Harry often wondered if Tom should have been a lawyer instead of a pathologist. _"She's divorced?"_

"Seperated,"

"_You might be in with a chance," _He made the odd clicking noise with his tongue; that Harry, after various bar visits previous to Meredith's introduction into their lives, had realised was his friend's 'wink'.

"I don't want to be in with a chance,"

"_Whatcha doing to celebrate your month anniversary?" _

"Huh?"

"_See what I did there? Ignoring your blatant lie and changing the subject,"_

"It is _not _a lie,"

"_You've been back in England a month." _It was weird hearing it like that. A month seemed like a long time when he thought about it – a twelfth of a year, a ninth of a pregnancy, 30(ish) whole days, 720 whole hours. Yet, it seemed like no time at all since he had been stood in the office with Nikki's arms gripped around him; no time at all since Mum's rant about Starbucks; no time at all since his meal out with Charlie. Yet, it had been a whole month. He'd imagined he would have achieved far more in his first month back. He thought he'd have seen Nikki out of work more than 4 times, and he wasn't even that confident in classing his babysitting as seeing her, as they'd talked for no more than 5 minutes, and it certainly wasn't about anything of consequence. In fact, he struggled to think of when they had ever talked about anything of consequence. They'd touched on Lilly, but they hadn't even scraped the surface of Graham. They'd discussed weather and politics and Danish TV programmes. He barely knew anything about her. She barely knew anything about him. She didn't even know the name of his American best friend. He felt better if he used the qualifier 'American', it allowed him to imagine that his British friend was still very much his best friend too, which, he had to admit, didn't really seem to be the case, with their lack of communication. When she really had been his best friend, before America - his call-up-at-3am-and-drunk-sob friend, his twin, his partner in crime, his confidant – he would have seen her 4 times out of work in one _week_, and most of the time it would be more. He'd naively hoped that within his first month, they could somehow get back to being like that. "_Whatcha doing to celebrate?" _Tom's voice kicked him out of his internal ramblings.

"Oh," He resolved there and then to make more progress in his next month. He'd find out if her favourite food was still IKEA meatballs, and whether Charlie liked them too. He'd ask about Graham – not just about the break-up (was it a break-up or were they attempting to call it a mutual agreement or some other kind of bullshit? He cursed himself for not even being sure of that) but about the entire relationship. He'd spoken to her briefly at the wedding, and knew the rough edges – she'd despised him at first (nobody could replace her Harry, she'd said in their first transatlantic phone call) but he grew on her and the rest was history. He'd make up for not making enough effort to stay in touch before. He'd make them travel back in time, pre 40s, when his hair wasn't quite so grey, and her face not quite so worn; and they'd be best friends again. And that would be that. "Nothing, I hadn't realised,"

"_Put it down! Jesus. SAMUEL! Harry, I'm really sorry, but I'll have to go,"_

"It's ok,"

"_I'll email you some rough dates,"_

"Sure, phone me when Meredith's home,"

"_Will do," _

"Bye,"

"_See ya buddy," _

**I am rubbish. I know. I haven't updated anything in more than a month, which makes me feel really bad. I have quite a lot of school work on at the moment, but hopefully in a few weeks I can go back to vaguely regular updating in between holidays and various things. I've been so busy that I haven't even had chance to watch any episodes since Paradise Lost. I haven't reviewed anything simply because I haven't read anything, but as soon as I get chance I will.**

**Thank you to anyone and everyone who has reviewed – I feel like I should start doing replies.**

**And lastly, I promise next chapter some Harry/Nikki goodness ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

_I wanna scream till the words dry out.  
><em>**Professor Green**

Friday

"Does it still count at Daddy's?"

"Yes," She fumbled around trying to remove his booster seat from where it was wrapped around the seatbelt; annoyed that he couldn't think up a different question to the one he had been asking repeatedly since the night before. "I said a week, and the week isn't up until tomorrow." Nikki had become fed up with enforcing the 'grounding', from Parents' Evening, so Charlie was spending an unscheduled Friday with Graham. It was a teacher-training day; Graham could deal with having to say no to his adorable, little face every time he asked for ice cream.

"But…"

"No. Buts." She growled emphatically, between tugs. Finally the stupid thing broke loose, and she followed him up the pathway to the front door. Graham buzzed them up and they were soon outside his door.

"Hey you!" Charlie flung his arms around his Dad, whilst Nikki brought in the booster seat and overnight bag. "God, you're getting too heavy for this," He laughed as he was swung his son around. Inside the flat, once his feet were back on the ground, the little boy realised they had company.

"Who's she?" Often, Nikki was glad she had a child who asked the difficult, more awkward questions for her.

"This is Amanda," Graham beckoned her to take a step forward, so she was stood beside him, and then introduced Nikki and Charlie. "Amanda's a friend of Daddy's," He explained to his son.

"Is she staying?" Graham shifted uneasily on his feet, looking at Nikki for some kind of direction. She couldn't quite work out his expression. Was he asking for permission? Was he apologizing?

"For a bit,"

"Does she like ice cream?"

"I do," The woman tucked away a strand of her thick, hazel hair and smiled down at him, pearly white teeth creeping out from behind her perfectly proportioned lips. Nikki couldn't help noticing she was only wearing a dressing gown. "I like it a lot, do you?'

"Can I have ice cream now?"

"Still no," Nikki worried that if she said anything more than a few words, she might betray the anger that was building up inside of her.

"But she's a guest! And she wants some!"

"Charlie. No." Nikki stated firmly. "How about you go watch Spongebob while I talk to Dad?"

"Can she watch it too?"

"I…" The younger woman looked at both parents, not sure whether her input into the conversation would make it go better or worse. Graham gave a little nod. "I'd love to. But you'll have to explain it to me, I've never seen it before,"

Charlie's voice faded into the distance as they made their way to the living room, whilst Nikki stayed completely still.

"Thanks for the heads up," She muttered bitterly.

"I didn't really plan…" He wrung his hands together. "She was here last night, and it's quite early, so…" Well that explained the pyjamas.

"So you decided to introduce her to your son?" She wanted to shout, to scream, to stomp her feet and storm off – but he was only in the next room, and she promised herself he'd never have to listen to them fight.

"Yes?"

"Without asking me?"

"I didn't really think I needed permission to,"

"You just didn't really think, did you?" She chewed ferociously on the gum in her mouth. "You didn't think at all." Frustrated, she took the ball out of her mouth and wrapped it up in a tissue. "Are things that serious between you, that you're comfortable introducing them?"

"Well…"

"Confident things won't go tits up and you won't have to explain why he can't see her anymore, after he's bonded with her?" He couldn't be that sure about it, Nikki pleaded with herself. No way could things be that serious. He looked down at his feet. _Sort of, casually - _he'd said. He'd said it was just experimenting. "Confident that you're not going to get bored of her too?"

"Are you sure you're worried about Charlie getting hurt?"

"Of course I'm bloody sure,"

"Or are you just scared of what this means for us?" Nevermind shouting at him, she wanted to slap him. "Nikki…"

"Is it so bad if I am?" She was determined not to cry. "You _assured _me it wasn't serious. Just casual. But it is serious isn't it? It has to be, for you to get Charlie involved." Or maybe he was just irresponsible to let Charlie get attached to a casual fling; she certainly wouldn't put it past him.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that…"

"That there's no chance for us?" She scoffed. "Does she know that? That you're still considering coming back to me?"

"Nikki…"

"She doesn't, of course she doesn't." Her car keys shot of her hand, onto the hardwood floor. "Because you're too weak to pick either way. Too weak to tell me a definite answer,"

"That's not it at all,"

"God," She tried to remain in control as she bent down to pick up her keys, hands shaking; desperate not to seem vulnerable. "You're pathetic,"

"I still love you," She couldn't help noticing that he whispered – there was no way anyone but her could have heard it. She wondered just what he'd told Amanda. That they were definitely getting a divorce? That they were over for good? For the briefest of moments, she felt sorry for the woman sat in the other room, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was professes his love for his wife. "I'm always going to love you."

"That sounds awfully familiar,"

"Just listen, ok? I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. But I just don't know what I want, I don't. Sometimes I just wish I could come home to you and Charlie and pretend I hadn't had this stupid mid-life crisis thing. Other times I just…I like being…here. But I miss you. So much."

"Then why did you leave in the first place?" For four months, there hadn't been a question she's wanted to ask more, but now that she had she found herself hoping it wouldn't answer – scared to find out the truth.

"I…"

"You know what, we'll do this another time." _When I can properly shout at you, _she thought. "For now, I'll make it simple for you."

"Nikki,"

"Your turn to listen." She raised her chin up slightly. "You might not know what you want, but I'll let you know what you can't have. Me. Ok? Not like this. I'm not being your back up, or something you're unsure about. I'm just not. So, don't crawl back. Not now." She wished she could say not ever, but her resolve betrayed her, and she was coming awfully close to tears. "I'm not one of your options."

"Nikki, please w…" She had brushed past him towards Charlie, before he had a chance to finish.

"Be good." She hugged him to her tightly, subtly using his t-shirt to wipe away the moisture that had begun to cloud her eyes. "And it lasts until tomorrow. I told Daddy everything last night, so you can't trick him."

"Ok." She squeezed him a little tighter. "I love you,"

"Love you more," She pulled away and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

"Yep,"

She drove away as soon as she got in her car, and then parked a few streets away from the Lyell Centre, before allowing herself to look in the mirror. Her mascara hadn't run, thank god. But her eyes were red and her cheeks matched. Any idiot could have seen there was something wrong. She couldn't go into work like that; not first thing in the morning. Harry would question her, and once that revealed nothing, he'd spend all day sneaking sympathetic glances her way, and muttering under his breath with Leo. She couldn't deal with that. Taking a few deep breaths, she placed her head on the steering wheel and resisted the urge to scream. Far too cliché.

As she regain composure and sat back up, she noticed the sign in the restaurant she'd parked up beside.

Two could play at that game.

**Ok, so not the Harry/Nikki I promised – but it's setting the wheels in motion, promise! **

**Please, please, please review! (Massive thank you to everyone that has!)**


	17. Chapter 17

Friday

Harry let his head fall onto his desk dramatically. She looked up briefly, giggled at his antics and then continued with her report. He'd been in a good mood all day, despite the mountains of paperwork; his constant chatter had only served to lighten her own spirits after the morning she'd had. It was almost as if he knew she needed cheering up.

"We're meant to be a pathology department," He moaned, his voice muffled by the file he was resting on. "I write more than a bloody journalist,"

She ignored his repeated mumblings of 'pathology' and 'reports' followed by various expletives.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" He asked, raising his head up.

"Yes, actually," She smiled proudly.

"But Charlie's with Graham?"

"I'm going out,"

"Out?" He didn't even attempt to hide the surprise from his voice.

"Yes,"

"With a man?" No reply. "Nikki?" Still she stayed silent. "Nikki, who is he?"

"No comment,"

"Nikki!" He moaned. "Wait," A calculating grin etched across his face. "Are you going dogging?"

"No!" She reached over and slapped his wrist.

"Then just tell me who your date is?"

"You'll laugh," Instantly she regretted saying this. She should have know it would have only made him more intent on finding the answer to his question, desperate to know what was so embarrassing for her.

"I'd never laugh at you,"

"So, by the duck pond that was…?"

"Laughter. But," Harry quickly continued. "Not at you specifically. At the whole situation. You know, tiny dog pulls in full sized human,"

"So at me, basically,"

"Well, yes," She couldn't even pretend to be angry when he smiled like that. "I'll rephrase. I'd never laugh at you, unless you were floating amongst bits of bread in the middle of a public park,"

"Idiot,"

He did another page of his report before attempting to wear her down any further. He got up for a coffee and brought her one, along with the last biscuit.

"Come on," He pleaded. "Tell me,"

"No,"

"Nicola,"

"No,"

"Nikki,"

"No,"

"Niks,"

"For peat's sake, I'm going speed dating, alright?" She threw a Tippex bottle at him as he fell about laughing. She really did hate him sometimes. She hated his stupid laugh and his floppy hair and that she caught him spelling favourite and colour without a 'u' in them.

"I'm sorry," She stayed concentrated on her reports. "I'm not laughing at the speed dating, I'm laughing at your face. You look like a little kid, bit like Charlie when you tell h…" He cut himself off; realising continuing with that train of thought probably wasn't going to win her over. "To prove I don't think it's ridiculous, I'll come with you," He did think it was ridiculous, of course – a minute wasn't nearly long enough to find out enough about a person to judge whether you wanted to go on a date with them. But he wouldn't let her know it.

"What makes you think I'd want you there?" In truth, she had to admit that having company made the whole thing seem less daunting. As the day had worn on, the event advertised at the restaurant she'd parked outside that morning became less appealing as it had been in her few moments of anger, and intense desire for some sort of revenge.

"Protection from psychos?" She looked indignant again and returned to her work. "Sorry, bad joke. I'm sure they will all be really nice." Maybe 10% of them would be. He might even have pushed that up to 15% if forced. "Look, I haven't been on a date with someone new in years. I haven't been on a date at all since Lilly. I need to get a move on." Her face warmed slightly as she looked up at him – a sympathetic smile spreading across her lips. "What about Graham?" He could tell from the way her smile fell instantly, she'd been hoping he'd avoid that question.

"He's seeing other people, why shouldn't I?" She shrugged, pretending it didn't faze her half as much as it did; conveniently neglecting to mention that it was no longer people – just one person. One other, very beautiful, very young person. "It's not like I'm going to end up with a boyfriend. It's just something fun, a nice night out – stress relief,"

"And he's ok with that?" _He never asked me if I was ok with Amanda._

"He left; he doesn't have a choice,"

"But you've always given me the impression you're hoping you'll get back together, so I tho..."

"If he's not moping around, neither should I."

"Strong independent woman?"

"Don't mock me,"

"Wouldn't dream of it," She had run out of stationery to throw at him, so settled with childishly knocking over his large pile of work. "Meet me at mine for pre-drinks?"

"Sure," She wandered off to recheck some evidence; glad in the knowledge that the idea of having to 'speed date' completely sober made him fill with dread too.

**Quick note to say that I don't really have to time to check through things these days (usually I'm too lazy to anyway) so please ignore any terrible grammar/spelling/weird mistakes.  
>Secondly, thank you for all your reviews – you are wonderful beyond words. Things start to get less hectic at the end of this week, as I start study leave, and I will be officially finished with all my Prefect duties (thank god for that one) so no more yearbook and leaver's assembly organising for me! Then, I hope to finally read and review some of the new things on here, and old things I need to catch up on – and maybe get more consistent with actually posting chapters. :)<br>Good luck to anyone doing exams – and I hope you're not as skilled in procrastination as me. Last weekend, hours spent tidying my room/meeting friends/reading pointless articles/playing with dog/cleaning multiple guitars (WHO DOES THIS? I'm a freak)/watching American TV = 30. Hours spent revising = 0.**

**And that, is the end of this pointless, rambling note.**

**Oh, wait, no. Last thing, watch Chuck. Just watch it. That is, unless you are meant to be revising or doing something else important, and cannot afford to live your life in a complete bubble for an extended period of time – it's addictive. I think I've lost a total of 3 days to this programme over the past few weeks. **


	18. Chapter 18

Not for the first time that evening, he couldn't help noticing how stunning she was, as he held the taxi door open for her. Her hair was pinned back, with a few wispy curls allowed to fall free, framing her face; her silky, short black dress looked like it belonged in an art gallery; and her face was fully 'night-out' made up for the first time since he'd returned from America. He'd forgotten how big it made her eyes look. She walked into the building on his arm, as if everything about looking that beautiful had been effortless – Harry wasn't fooled though; he'd had to wait an hour for her to decide upon a dress – what was meant to be pre-drinks at his, ended up being a fashion show at hers.

He dropped her arm as they entered the restaurant, and an overly cheerful man in a black shirt, with a small red name-badge, proclaiming that he was 'Tom, Speed Date Co-ordinator', greeted them. He handed them each a name badge and a scorecard. He explained that women would stay in their seats; the men would rotate around the circle. They'd have 3 minutes with each person, and then they should write down the names of people they liked; there'd be time afterwards to stay and chat with anyone they wanted to get to know better. Of course, there would be various nibbles provided throughout the evening; predictably, this was the only part Harry properly listened to.

Once everyone had arrived, the women sat down. Harry made his way to sit opposite Nikki, but was too slow, as a lanky, ginger man sat down eagerly. Noting the direction of the gaze of every other man in the room, it seemed Nikki would be in popular demand. He scoffed and took the seat beside Carrot-Top.

He found it difficult to focus on his conversation with the woman opposite; by the end of the three minutes, he had learnt more about Carrot-Top than his own partner. He was called Mike, and he owned one of those ticket re-sale companies that did the ridiculously cheap West End deals. He liked walking his dog, going on countryside breaks and sailing. He sounded like a nice, dependable guy; he was definitely not Nikki's type, Harry thought snidely.

Harry's next seat was out of earshot of Nikki's conversation, so he forced himself to focus on his own.

"So, what do you do?" He asked politely.

"I'm a nurse," Harry smiled – maybe they actually did have something vaguely resembling common ground. "Which basically means I'm the doctors servant, satisfying their every whim." He raised an eyebrow. "Yesterday, I had a woman ask for sleeping pills, which, obviously, I can't prescribe. So, I called the doctor and he just told me to 'tell her it isn't a hotel'. She complained to him today that she still couldn't sleep, and he said nobody had told him about her original request and then _I _got the stick. Twat. I hate doctors." Harry shuffled awkwardly in his chair. "God, I sound like a right old hag. Sorry," She smiled apologetically. "I'm not a crazy person, honest." She had quite a nice smile, he noted. "I've just had a really hard day. How about you? What do you do?"

"I…erm…" He hesitated. Sure, his line of work was considerably different to working in a hospital, but he couldn't help thinking that 3 minutes wasn't long enough to explain that. He didn't want to short time left to be full of awkward silence. "I fly planes,"

Conscious that he was required to keep up the same lie (just in case, for some obscure reason, he became a topic of discussion between some of them at the mingling session afterwards) Harry spent the following half hour explaining flight paths, and moaning about awkward traffic controllers. It was quite nice to talk about something other than the human body. Nice to pretend he was Maverick for a bit.

"Hello," He stuck a hand out in greeting once he reached his last table.

"Nikki Alexander," She grinned. "Dr Nikki Alexander,"

"Harry Cunningham." He imitated. "Captain Harry Cunningham,"

"Captain?" When she raised an eyebrow, he smiled, willing her to go along with it.

"I fly for BA out of Heathrow,"

"Have you been lying?" She lowered her voice. She should have known he wouldn't take it seriously – but, after two glasses of wine, she found it more amusing than annoying.

"I don't know what you're talking about doctor,"

"Sorry, you just look like a colleague of mine,"

"Really? What's he like?"

"A pain in the arse, really," She giggled as his eyes widen. "Let's not talk about him; I wouldn't want to put a dampener on the evening," He kicked her gently under the table, and quickly stole half her glass of red.

"What do you spend your time doing then, apart from doctoring?"

"I have a son,"

"Has he been naughty recently?" Nikki looked slightly confused by his question. Somehow, between the stacks of paperwork, Harry had forgotten to find out what had actually happened at Parents Evening. "Ever had to ground him?" Recognition spread across her face.

"He's grounded at the moment actually,"

"Please, tell me more,"

"Stop drinking my wine," She snatched it back from him. "He drew on the class pet mouse,"

"I love Charlie," She allowed herself to join in with his laughter.

"You can't laugh about it in front of him," She warned – taking his usage of Charlie's name to mean they'd stopped pretending not to know each other. "He'll do it again,"

"What did he use?"

"Felt tips. It won't wash out – it's a rainbow mouse."

"I love him," Harry repeated, chuckling and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Met anyone nice?"

"One of them, but I'm not sure how long I can pretend to be a pilot for,"

"Why did you even say you were in the f…" The buzzer sounded, announcing that their 3 minutes was up.

**I will be spending a week in Aberdeen soon, much to my dismay. But that means nothing to do other than write, so expect more frequent updates and I'll actually get round to reading and reviewing everything that's been put on here. **

**Hope this lived up any expectations. I'm also completely stuck between 2 options for what to do next for them – I'm so hopeless at planning things – so any expectations/ideas/ramblings may help me decide – leave a review, it might help me a get a feel of what would be best.**

**Thank you!**


	19. Chapter 19

He glanced over at Nikki, before quickly turning back to the nurse and nodding along with the story she was telling him, whilst attempting to remember her name.

Once the bell had rung, he had intended to grab Nikki and make a quick escape to a different bar – but the other men seemed to swarm around her like a hive of bees, and he had no chance of getting her away. He hadn't put anyone's name down on his card, mainly because he hadn't remembered any of them, but also because the conversations had been so dull (he refused to admit that this was due to his complete lack of effort in trying to make them even remotely interesting). He had no intention of going anywhere near any of them again. After ten minutes stood alone at the bar, it seemed the nurse had taken pity on him and decided to join him.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?" He took a sip from his wine glass – his sixth of the night.

"I just said I got mauled to death by sharks and you nodded and smiled,"

"I…" He couldn't fathom why the woman didn't look furious – she seemed to find it amusing that he clearly hadn't been listening to a word she'd said. Personally, he would have found it insulting. "Sorry, I'm a bit out of it. Must be all the wine," He held up his glass, and smiled crookedly, now at the stage where he couldn't hold it up straight, no matter how hard he tried, and crimson liquid came dangerously close to spilling over the edge.

"Or the blonde," She nodded towards Nikki. Denying it was useless; he clearly hadn't been as subtle as he had thought, so he simply shrugged. "You should go over and talk to her,"

"And fight off the pack?" He scoffed. "No thank you,"

"Go on," She nudged him gently with her elbow.

"I'm meant to be talking to you!" His words were beginning to blend into one another.

"Yes, but you're not." She giggled at the guilty look that stretched across his face. "It's ok, I'm not really interested in you – I'm not offended. Go talk to her,"

"She wouldn't be interested either,"

"Why ever not? You're funny, you've got a good job, you seem nice enough – you're 'ruggedly handsome'." She made quotation marks with her fingers at that point; if he were more sober, he would have probably have taken offence, but his mind was having such trouble trying to understand why on Earth he was thinking about approaching Nikki tonight, of all people, that it couldn't find the time to register the potential insult. Why did he feel jealous of the pack around her? "And you're completely wasted – you could be an easy target for her,"

"She'd never be interested in me,"

"Why?"

"Because…" He struggled to find a reason short enough to be explained over the course of only one evening; although it wasn't like he hadn't thought about it before, he had to admit that, even if just to himself. "Because she's Nikki,"

The nurse shook her head, and excused herself to go to the toilet.

Harry, despite not being able to get beyond the first layer, du to his impaired state, was so focused on attempting to stack the beer mats in a pyramid, that he didn't notice the nurse stopping to talk to Nikki on her way back from the loos.

"Why is your card blank?" She took the half empty glass from him, resulting in a childish moan. "Hmmm?" She flicked his head, which was now resting on the bar. He sat back up slowly, and reached for the pen he had discarded earlier. In spidery, almost illegible cursive, he scribbled 'Nikki'. He didn't really need to think about why, he decided. That could wait for morning. Or possibly next week. Or maybe a bit later than that, he had been putting it off for a good decade now, what difference could a few weeks make?

"There you go," He mumbled, before taking the wine back from her, and finishing it in one.

"Let's take you home,"

After collecting both their coats, she led him out onto the street and began trying to flag down a taxi, but much to her dismay, every time she raised her arm, Harry swatted it back down.

"Will you stop it?" The firmness in her voice was betrayed by the smile on her face – he looked so ridiculously adorable. He looked different from the Harry she'd got to know over the past month – she couldn't quite put her finger on it, because there was still the twinge of sadness in his eyes, which refused to leave, and his pepper stubble still stretched across his drawn, tired face. But there was something there, something completely different; it dawned on her, for the first time he seemed completely unreserved - open – vulnerable. He looked like he was willing to let her know anything … everything. Like he used to.

"You can't take me to Mum!" He pleaded, tugging on her arm. "Let me sleep on your coach,"

She sighed reluctantly – even if she ever did manage to get a taxi, she reasoned, she struggled to think of a way to force him inside the house once they got there.

"Come on then," He stood still, slightly leant sideways, watching her walk away in the direction of her house. After a while, he ran after her, grabbing her hand as he reached her side, swinging her arm as they walked along in the cold air – Autumn was beginning to turn into Winter. Nikki was grateful she had brought her gloves – even through them, she could feel the iciness of Harry's hand against her own.

It was only once she had noticed this dull chill that she realised what she was doing. Walking hand in hand with _Harry_.

Although, as he was engaged in singing The Office theme song at the top of this voice, this probably wasn't an action of much significance – chances were he didn't even know he was doing it. She pushed the nurse's words and what he had written on his card to the back of her mind.

"You shouldn't drink that much," She said after what was possibly the most painful twenty minutes her ears had endured, hoping that if she started a conversation the wailing of indistinguishable lyrics would stop.

"Is ok, I haven' been sick," He countered, turning his head to grin at her.

"Thank god,"

"D'you know that this is the firs' time I tried dating after Lil?" She thought his pronunciation was fairly decent. Maybe the cold air was sobering him up. "First!" He reiterated. She wanted to probe him further about Lilly, but decided it could wait.

"You really didn't like any of them?"

"You were only one who made me smile," She hoped he wouldn't notice her slight hesitation before laughing off his comment, hoping to keep it playful and head the conversation in a different direction. Her laughter hadn't worked though – it only served to anger him, and leave him more determined. "It's true," They reached her door; she let go of his hand and began to search her purse for her house keys. As he followed her inside, he tripped on the step, crashing into her, pinning her against wall. "Sorry,"

"Don't worry about it," She straightened herself up to move away, but his arms stayed in place on either side of her thin frame.

**I apologise for the lack of updates – for the millionth time, sorry, I'm horrendous at doing this :)**

**Also, on a more optimistic note – I enjoyed writing this chapter, and have already started on the next :)**


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